An Elder Scrolls Saga: P2 - Dagger in the Wind
by Jupitus Garth
Summary: Early in 4E-182, a suspicious bounty is to be collected in Skyrim, in Winterhold tempers flare regarding those lost, and a farm in Morrowind is destitute and barely able to stay afloat. This story features original Characters. This is a sequel to An Elder Scrolls Saga: P1 - Old Wounds, but steps have been taken to try and bring the reader up to speed.
1. DaggerintheWindCh00

The following story takes place at the end of Sun's Dawn and the beginning of First Seed 4E-182.

* * *

**Prologue**

The rain fell slowly down lightly from the dull grey sky. For the workers that meant a cold wet day of work, for the elderly Cyrodilic man, Achilles, the famous Imperial shipbuilder, it meant they would fall behind further their original schedule.

It didn't bother him though, not as much as it would have done in the past anyway. For one thing, he didn't have a buyer for this great ship, or a contractor. So there was no deadline to worry about. This project was for him, and him alone.

He stepped inside, into warmth of the large-sized house that lay near the vast dry dock. Outside the Breton city of Daggerfall.

He entered the large main room, finding the dark-haired Malthar sat on the large cushion backed bench, waiting for him.

"Achilles." The young Breton said, a concerned look on his face. "You said you wanted to talk, I've been here for a while. Everything alright?"

The elderly man decided to get straight to the point. "I need you to head to Jehanna."

Malthar didn't hide his surprise. "Why?"

"My dreams." Achilles informed him. "I need you to wait for those that are in my dreams."

The Breton shook his head. "I'm sorry." he apologized. "You know that I am loyal to you, but heading off to Jehanna, a place I've never been, to wait for your dreams to show up is just."

"Stupid?" Achilles finished off.

"How long would you even want me to stay there?" Malthar asked him.

"I do not know." The Cyrodilic man admitted. "I know they will be there, I have seen it. I would ask that you stay till they arrive, but I know that is asking too much."

"It is, I'm sorry."

"I would ask you to stay for five months then, at least."

"_five!?_" Malthar asked in shock. "That's a long time, I'm not sure I could even afford to stay there for that amount of time."

Achilles smiled wistfully. He knew Malthar would go, even if it was simply out of loyalty for the old man.

Achilles had been great friends with Malthar's whole family back in Cyrodiil, and he had seen the young Breton grow up. When war had come to the Empire, Malthar's parents had told the retired Achilles to take their son away to High Rock. Far away from all of the fighting. Unfortunately things had turned out badly, and Malthar's family were lost in the war. Now, getting on six years later, Malthar was a fine man who was on the cusp of being twenty years old.

"I will pay your way." Achilles told him. "You need not worry about that."

"Do I go alone?" Malthar asked.

Achilles shook his head. "Take who you want with you. Just make sure they are willing to go for such a long period."

"I will."

The elderly man smiled. "Give it a week to prepare."

"A week." Malthar repeated solemnly.

Achilles knew the young man didn't understand. Truth was he didn't need to, at least not yet.


	2. DaggerintheWindCh01

**Chapter I**

Rasha, a dark golden brown furred, long-haired elven like Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit, had heard what the Thalmor judiciary had just told her. Yet she had the feeling that they were keeping things from her, and in essence lying to her. She hated not having all the information at hand, and it played heavily on her mind.

She smoothed a crease in the front of her armoured dark blue robe uncomfortably, wondering what their true motives were.

"Is there a problem?" the dark blonde judiciary asked. He was standing tall behind the small desk, that lay at the back of the room. His tone oozed clear arrogance and the utmost contempt for her.

His attitude was most inappropriate, though not unexpected. While she hadn't dealt with the Thalmor directly before, she had dealt with numerous Altmer. What she had found, was that very few didn't talk down to her as though she was nothing more than an animal. Though she had noticed that they often spoke to everyone like that, not just her, or other Khajiits.

"I do not understand." she began, her accent and way of speaking more Nibenese-Cyrodilic than anything Elsweyr. "You say that the target is dangerous and needs removing as soon as possible?"

"That is correct."

"Okay, but what is her crime?"

"The details should not concern you, you're a simple assassin."

"Bounty hunter." Rasha corrected.

The judiciary folded his arms and frowned. He then proceeded, ignoring her correction. "You are an assassin, your job is to assassinate. Not ask questions about motives. Your incessant questions will not get you more than you need. It should not matter who she is, only that there is a price on her head."

"It's just that I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't, you stupid animal!" he snapped. "Now go to Winterhold and kill her, that is all we ask. You will be rewarded for this greatly." he then smiled at her, a cruel malevolent smile that made him look almost daedric. It was clear to her that whatever he was thinking about, it was giving him great pleasure.

"Anything else?" she asked, trying to hide her unease. Rasha knew she should have fled as soon as she had overheard the guards talking about them having to throw people down into the troll cave when they refused the head judiciary. She had suspected at the time that it was just idle banter, tell tales that only had some basis in fact. Now she wasn't quite so sure. If she refused him, would she find herself thrown into some troll pit to be mauled to death? By the way he was smiling it was a real possibility.

"Yes, that is only your main target. We have a second target." he looked at her, his face full of malice. "Not nearly as important as the first, but still a nuisance to us."

"Who is it?"

"A Bosmer male by the name of Faldan, he is believed to be in the Gray-Quarter in the city of Windhelm."

"And what's his crime?"

"That too does not concern you."

"If I am to kill this-"

"I repeat, that it does not concern you. Just do your job!"

"Fine, anything else?"

"If you fail, you will be properly punished."

Rasha didn't like threats, especially ones that were directed at her. She didn't like to operate this way, but she was dealing with the Thalmor. What else could she expect other than malice and contempt?

Jobs recently had been scarce, especially for a bounty hunter with a conscience. There was little work in Cyrodiil and up here most people went to the warrior guild known as Ysgramor's Companions of Jorrvaskr.

When she had heard of a well-paying job from the Thalmor Embassy, she had jumped at the chance. Coin was low, and she had suspected that it would be a fairly straight forward job.

"Will you do as we ask?" the judiciary asked her. "Or do we find someone else?"

Rasha thought about it for a moment. If she declined, would he simply strike her down here and now? Or would he incapacitate her and do something worse?

"I accept the job." she informed him, knowing full well that she truly didn't have a choice in the matter.

The elf pulled out a piece of paper. "Sign this contract and be off." he said as he planted the paper firmly onto the desktop, next to a fountain of ink and a quill.

She walked over to it, and began to read it in its entirety, making sure she wasn't excepting any terms hidden in the text.

The judiciary sighed with annoyance. "Just sign it, Khajiit!" he snapped.

"I am reading the contract." she said, trying to keep her own frustration at bay.

"Of course you are." he mocked before adding beneath his breath, either not knowing or not caring whether or not he could be heard. "Khajiits are only _just_ smart enough to read."

She dug her tail hard onto the wooden floor, scraping it back and forth in annoyance. The contract seemed not to have anything hidden away in the text, it seemed legitimate, despite the very fact it lacked the crimes the targets had committed. That simple truth did nothing to calm her misgivings about the bounty, it only made her feel worse.

Rasha sighed aloud before she gripped the quill and dipped its tip into the inkwell. She signed the paper reluctantly with her signature.

The Thalmor snatched it back and pointed to the door. "Leave now!" he barked.

"Do I not get a copy?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "In my experience, notes and contracts on assassins are a bad idea. Of course my superiors would have me write out a note as though it were a shopping list, given to a young naïve. But they complicate matters if one is caught or killed."

"I see."

"Now go!"

She did so, happy just to get out of there. Now wished that she hadn't heeded their call, and allowed someone else to sign their life away instead. Coming here had been a mistake, it was too late now though, she had signed the contract and now she had to see it through, or it could easily be her name on the next one.

Rasha made her way out of the Thalmor Embassy that lay in the Haafingar mountain range, near the capital city of Skyrim. She pulled up her hood over her long brown hair.

It was just before noon, early in the month of First Seed. She wanted to get to Solitude and gather what she would need for the trip, early tomorrow morning.

Being a Khajiit was both a benefit and a curse. She would be able to cover more ground than most others, but she was also more susceptible to the harsh weather, and that would make her job all the more harder.

The Khajiit headed through the gates, leaving the newly established embassy behind her. She was glad to be out of there. Another minute in that place full of those ignorant, self loving narcissists and she would have found herself slitting her own throat.

Perhaps she still would, if things didn't go well.

* * *

The fortress city of Solitude, stood proud on the natural arch, that shielded the city docks from the harsh winds that came in from the Sea of Ghosts to the north.

As she approached the city, Rasha heard the distinct sound of music over the high stone walls. It was only when she entered through the large main gates of the province capital, that she was greeted by the clear sounds of instruments playing, a harmonic male and female voice singing, the crowd clapping in time with the beat.

She looked to her right, to see a group of people watching two Redguard bards. They were standing on a stone platform next to the outer wall near the entrance. The male was playing a lute, while the female was playing two elevated drums set up on stands next to each other, one large and deep, the other, a lighter and more conventional drum.

Rasha stopped and watched them perform, she had the time and she wanted to hear the music.

It was unusual to see two bards playing in concert, they tended to prefer to be alone, unless of course it was for someone important, or for a festival or something. Perhaps it was an ego thing. Whatever it was, these two appeared to like playing together, complementing each other perfectly, her beats setting up the tempo, while his fingers flew across the frets of the eight stringed instrument, giving the emotion.

His ability to play the lute, outshone anyone she had ever heard before. He was going beyond the simply plucking of the same few chords and was actually doing some very skilled, technical playing.

It was quite the sight to behold, by the way the two of them kept peering into each the other's eyes, it was clear that they were in love. Something that regretfully, was an enigma to Rasha, though not a mystery as to why she had, as of yet, not found it.

To fall in love, one must allow themselves to get close to others. She maintained a separation between her and everyone else, never remaining anywhere long enough to form any kind of relationship with anyone. As friends, or anything else.

Soon they were finished, they bowed while the crowd applauded, Rasha found herself joining in, her face radiant with a wide joyful smile.

The male Redguard, held the lute over his head in triumph, placing his right, free hand, over the females shoulder.

"We thank you for coming out on this fine winters afternoon, to see us perform. We do it to brighten your day."

Rasha took this moment to leave the two bards behind. She headed to the inn, that lay just across the way. She would spend the night there, as she had done the previous night before she had made her way up to the embassy. Tomorrow would be the start of a long journey, and she had to be well rested before she embarked on it.

Journeying through Skyrim was always perilous, with dangerous animals. Always lurking, ready to ambush the unwary traveller. It made the trip that much more interesting and strangely enticing to her.

She loved the danger, that was why she had become a bounty hunter in the first place. wherever there was a price on someone's head, she went to collect. She didn't always accept a bounty however. If she thought that the person was in fact innocent and the bounty unfair, then she had always refused.

Not this time though.

Unfortunately she had now signed a contract with the Thalmor, and that meant she would have to see it through. Otherwise she could easily find that her life was forfeit also.

She sat down at a small wooden table inside the inn, and listened while a single male bard, sang and played his lute flatly, emotionless, not feeling the words that he sung. It was quite the disappointment compared to the amazing performance outside. She ignored him, putting his words out of her mind as she took out her glass dagger and felt its edge.

It needed sharpening on one side. She would ensure that it was done before she went anywhere else. She would ask the blacksmith, if it were possible for her to use his grind wheel later on. For now though, a warm meal to warm her belly was in order.

A young man approached her, he was wearing a basic tunic and pants with a rag looped through his belt.

"Hello." she greeted.

"Good afternoon. Was just wondering if you'd like anything?"

Yes, what have you got on the menu?"

"A bit of everything, though it you want something easy and hot, we have pies."

"Well I'll have one of those then, surprise me with what kind."

"Alright, I'll be back shortly."

The man left for a few moments, returning with a nice hot pie in hand.

He placed it down onto the table. "There you go." he said. "That'll be five gold."

Rasha reached into her coin purse and gave him the gold. The man left her as she dug her knife and fork into it, cutting herself a slice. She placed it in her mouth. There was the distinct taste of horker meat, meaning it was a probably a horker meat pie.

She tucked into her meal, eating it slowly, savouring every texture, flavour, until it was all devoured.

She sat back content. It wasn't everyday she got such an enjoyable meal, though when she did, it was always an experience worth repeating. Not right away, as that would diminish its meaning and impact, but in a few months when she had almost forgotten what it was like. She sat there for a while, allowing herself to properly digest the food.

"You look like an adventurer." A male accented voice said to her.

She looked around to see a Nord with dark, long hair, dressed in some old iron armour sit opposite her. She scowled, hoping he'd get the hint and move off. Unfortunately he didn't.

"If you want a Spellsword to accompany you, just say the word with a two-hundred septim gold payment, and I'll follow you to any cave, any old ruin and protect you from the evil hordes."

Rasha felt insulted. "You think I need protection?" she asked him disgustedly.

"Hmnn." he said. "Perhaps I need to work on that delivery."

"All I want is to sit here in peace. I have no want or need for a mercenary."

"I'm a sword for hire and need to sell myself. Have any ideas?" he asked her.

"Yes, for you to go away and leave me be."

He seemed to ignore her. "Belrand is the name, and if you want backup out there, then I can deal with blade or spell." he advertised. "Does that sound better?" he asked her. "Is that a better sales pitch?"

"How about you leave me alone and go annoy someone else, or I'll slit your throat." She bared her teeth. "How's that for a sales pitch!?"

He stood up, his eyebrows raised. "Okay, sure." he said. "No need for that, just trying to be friendly."

To her joy he left her and sat at a table across the room. She would sit here for a while longer, then she would see about getting her blade sharpened and acquiring some supplies.

After an hour or so, Rasha found herself outside at the Blacksmith, that lay elevated just outside the grounds of Castle Dour. The smith agreed to allow her to use his grind stone, though as she sharpened it, he decided to initiate dialogue, much to her disdain.

"That's the blade you want to sharpen?" he asked incredulously looking at her dagger. "I can sell you a proper one if you'd like."

"This blade does me well."

"Against what, rabbits?" he retorted. "I have some fine steel swords for sale, good ones, not a week out of the forge. Made by myself. Not as good as Skyforge steel, but then what is?"

"I do not want, nor need a sword."

The smith gave in. "Each to their, own I guess." he said, as he made his way over to the workbench and began hammering away at a piece of dented steel Imperial armour, trying to get it back into shape.

A few moments later she rose up from the grindstone, satisfied with her dagger's newly formed edge. She pondered briefly on what her next blade should be after this one. With every sharpening, the blade grew smaller, more fragile. Soon, she would have to replace it.

Orcish was too jagged, too imprecise and messy. Ebony was not well-balanced and too heavy. Anything else just wasn't durable enough for her needs.

The best had always been glass in her eyes. Light weight, sharp, strong and precise. Tempered well and it was a handy tool, that would last years if maintained properly just as the one she currently used had.

Her current blade was her first and she had a sentimental attachment to it, but it was nearing the end of its useful life. Perhaps she would save it for decoration for when she finally retired.

Whatever she decided, it would have to wait. Right now, she had to focus on the task ahead.

* * *

The next morning, Rasha picked up some needed supplies from the general store, after having a brief verbal exchange with the shopkeeper, she headed out of the city gates.

She decided that instead of going the whole way on foot, she would head to Windhelm by carriage, remove her first target and then from there she would travel north on foot to Winterhold.

She would be silent like the night, hidden away, listening, waiting to strike without so much as a sound. If it went well, no one would know she was even there, apart from the body she left behind of course, and if things went badly, then she would find herself dead. Her general combat skill was pitiful, she relied on stealth to catch her targets unaware with either a blow, to knock them unconscious for capture, or a quick slit of the throat. It all depended on what the contract required.

She waved to the carriage driver to get his attention, as he seemed to be off in his own little world. He looked down at her and waved back, almost comically.

"I can take you to any of the capitals." he informed her.

"I would like to go to Windhelm." she told him.

The driver gave her a sidelong look, as a pained expression crossed his face. "You sure you want to go there?" he asked her.

"Yes, I will not be staying there for long."

"Good, because ever since Ulfric took over after his father's death, the attitude to outsiders has fallen somewhat to the bad side accommodating. Not to say that it was all that great before, but you'd think that Ysgramor's city would-"

"I have heard of this issue. It is of no consequence to me." Rasha interrupted, not wanting to hear an entire speech on the matter.

"Alright, that'll be twenty gold then."

Rasha reached into her coin purse and gave him the gold. She climbed in the back and made herself comfortable.

"Good weather." he said. "Nice day for a trip to the stone city."

Moments later they were off, unfortunately the driver decided to start speaking, reminding Rasha why she liked to travel alone.

"Solitude is a nice city, yes?" he asked her.

"It is built in a foolish spot." she responded truthfully.

"What do you mean?"

"The far side of the arch will eventually erode to a point where it can no longer support the weight that lays upon it. The city will then collapse into the sea."

"Y'mean like Winterhold?"

"The sea is very powerful, erosion happens slowly. Slowly enough for people not to notice."

"I guess so." he said. "So what is your business in Windhelm?"

"I have no business there." she said simply.

"Oh, I just thought that."

"I am not staying, I will be moving on from there."

"Oh, alright then." the driver said, a hint of disappointment in his voice at her lack of willingness to talk. "Moving onward into Morrowind?" he asked. "Not much there but ash."

"I'm not going to Morrowind."

"Oh, okay." he said.

"Do you mind if I rest while on the trip?" she questioned hoping that he would take the hint to shut up.

"Oh no of course not. Take a nap if you want."

"Thank you."

"Just to let you know, our first stop will be in Dragon Bridge."

"How long till we're there?" she asked.

"Well it's a few miles away yet, so you just rest."

"Thank you."

The driver stopped talking to her, and she was grateful, she just hoped he would remain so for the rest of the trip.

It didn't.

Dragon Bridge came far too soon, and the driver began to speak to her once again, while he fed his horse and checked the wheels.

He told of their next stop in Rorikstead, then of the next stop in Whiterun after that, then about the long journey to Windhelm. After. He began speaking of his family, all while Rasha nodded, pretending to listen to his inane prattle.

He thought he was interesting, but in truth he was far from it. She had a brief respite as she found the outhouse, but soon she was back and he started up once again, his mouth never-ceasing to wag.

Soon they were off again, and he refused to stop talking. She simply ignored him. He didn't seem to notice, or perhaps he didn't care. All she knew was that she wouldn't make the mistake of taking a carriage again.

But that was what she had said the last time she had taken one.


	3. DaggerintheWindCh02

**Chapter II**

Darovin Karo, a grey skinned, dark-haired, red-eyed, clean-shaven, muscular Dunmer. Stared out of the kitchen window at his wife, as she futilely tilled a small part of the field with his son Brendarr, and the relative newcomer, an Orsimer girl called Magoza.

His wife was a beautiful thing. Her light bluish-grey skin and dark scarlet hair, glistened in the sun. His son looked like a strange cross between the two of them, his hair a strange black-red and his skin a mid hue of grey and blue.

It had been a long time since the farm had been able to produce anything. They had lost nearly all their money and every last worker because no matter how hard they tried, they struggled to get anything to grow.

His family had thought that they had been blessed. The farm had survived the eruption of Red Mountain and luckily were far enough north to have avoided the Argonians taking over southern Morrowind. Now it seemed they had fallen prey to some kind of curse. The soil had become dry, clay like and clumpy. Unable to grow much of anything. The crops that did survive were usually weedy pathetic things that none would buy. Non but the exceptionally poor that was.

He looked to the sky and saw rain clouds in the distance. It didn't matter how many gathered, very few dropped their rain over his farm, causing most plants to simply die of thirst, and they were too far from any rivers to get water that way.

He peered down at the small chest that lay in front of him on the stone floor by the small window. He squatted down and opened it, rummaging through all the odd bits till he found what he was looking for, his old ebony crossbow. He pulled it out and looked at it's dull scratched and worn surface.

In his youth, he had used it while he had been a sailor. The ship he was on, had ventured across to the island known as Solstheim. It was how he had met his wife Llandri, but eventually the time had come for him to return home and face his responsibilities. He took over the farm from his parents, who were becoming too old to run things anymore. The farm survived for many years, even after they had passed on, but then things began to take a turn.

Maybe he just wasn't a good farmer, that or he had picked up a curse somewhere. He often wondered if it were a secret plot by the Argonians, though he knew that last one was just him being paranoid. After all it only seemed to be his farm that was suffering.

His family had farmed this land, going back several generations from even before the great Vvardenfell volcano had erupted. For it to be him that finally saw it fall into decay made him feel inadequate, a failure. The truth was that he no longer wanted to be here. The dead crops were a constant reminder of that felt inadequacy.

His wife and he had tried all they knew to get the crops to grow, but they always failed. Their son Brendarr was starting to lust for adventure, and he feared that if he left, he would never return.

So when the inevitable time came, and Brendarr told them that he was leaving to see the world, Darovin would agree that they'd all do it together, as a family. It was the only thing they could do.

He placed the crossbow back into the chest and closed it shut. Maybe he was being overzealous, perhaps it was just a dry period that had just happened to have lasted for over ten years.

He had requested new land, just as one of his ancestors had once done centuries ago in order to get this land, after the old one became overrun by the flying predators known as cliff racers. Of course his ancestor didn't have the misfortune of having to deal with the fallout from Red Mountain, and he had been outright refused to even purchase new land. It was a commodity now, and few could afford it.

That had been long ago, when they'd had the money. Now they couldn't even ponder the idea of buying new land. It was well beyond their financial means, and it had been for the past four years.

Darovin heard the door go. He looked around to see his son enter, wiping his dirty, clammy hand across his grey heavily ridged brow.

"We've tilled the ground so hard we might have broken through to Oblivion itself." he said with a heavy sigh.

"How is Magoza doing?"

"Fine I guess. I don't see why we have to have her around though?"

"We need the help and she's a good kid."

"Nothing will help that soil."

"Maybe she's good luck." Darovin suggested.

"Pfft, whatever." Brendarr said dismissing the foolish notion.

"Well she certainly hasn't been a burden on us. She works hard and always remains grateful."

"Yeah, well I would have preferred it if someone prettier had come knocking on our door two months ago. Someone nicer to look at, who isn't quite so, y'know, Orcy looking."

"That's not very nice, son."

"Well it's true."

His son would soon be seventeen, yet he still acted very adolescent at times. He wondered if he himself had come across that way when he was his age.

"She's a very good worker, and has some really good manners. You could learn some from her."

"I have good manners."

"Compared to an Or-" Darovin stopped himself from finishing his sentence.

Brendarr Smiled. "You were gonna say Orc, weren't you?"

"Look, she's a nice kid and you shouldn't be nasty, especially behind her back."

"I'll say how ugly she is to her face then."

"That's not what I meant."

"Father, I'm just saying that a nice Dunmer girl would have been much better, or how about one of those Altmer ones, I hear that they're into-"

"I think I should stop sending you to the city for supplies and start sending Llandri instead." Darovin interrupted. "These things you hear there are just nonsensical tales by perverted city folk."

"Speaking of which, Don't we need some more lamp oil and some iron ore, we broke another hoe, and we don't have any metal to make new pieces for it."

"Amongst a whole heap of other things. Perhaps I should send you up with Magoza, she'd be a good influence on you, and she could do with getting away from here for a few hours. Poor thing has been trying to show her worth, and in my opinion has been working far too hard for her own good."

"Don't make me go anywhere with her." he moaned.

"You don't have to worry, I wouldn't think of putting her through such torture. Though we do have some crops we can sell that are actually half decent this time."

"Well then, I'll take our amazing crop of twelve marshmerrows to sell, oh and what about the half dead saltrice that are flopping about in the ground, we could pull them out and sell them to the blind."

His son was trying to be funny, but his words cut through his father like butter. He grimaced and his son instantly realised that his light-hearted joke was anything but.

"Sorry father, I was just trying to make a light joke on our situation."

"The farm is a joke, and a bad one at that." He looked out of the window at his wife who stood talking to the Orc. "You're right, we only have two dozen or so marshmerrows and scrib cabbages that made it through. No matter what we try, without access to enough water they simply won't grow."

"Maybe the curse of Red Mountain has finally reached us."

"We've tried to make this work, son. I think that maybe we shouldn't bother anymore. The river is too far to collect water and it barely rains meaning the well is almost dry all year round. This place is finished."

"What do you mean?" his son asked, concern clear in his voice.

"I mean just go." he said simply.

"Leave the farm?" Brendarr asked, his eyebrows raised, his jaw semi-slack. "After all this time?"

"Well we can't stay can we."

"Have you spoken to mother about this?"

"Not yet." he said.

The truth hurt. If they stayed then they would eventually starve. The crops grew thinner every year and no one wanted to buy most of the crops that survived, let alone the ones that didn't. They had to leave, there was no alternative.

"Just forget I said anything." Darovin said after a moments thought. "I'm just frustrated."

"You sure?" his son questioned. "You seemed pretty sure we couldn't stay here any longer only a few moments ago."

The father shrugged. "I don't know. Just get those filthy clothes off and go get yourself wiped down."

"Okay, father." Brendarr said as he headed off out into the other room.

Darovin once again stared out of the window at his wife. It had been so long since he had seen her truly happy. It had been so long since he himself had felt happy.

They were all wasting their lives here and he knew it. He only wished he had the courage to accept it.

* * *

As Llandri spoke to Magoza, the Dunmer couldn't help but smile. She remembered the day, just under two months ago now, when she had knocked on their door. She had looked so frightened, her little face full of sadness and covered small cuts from where she later found out, was from a nasty fall in one of the fields.

She still didn't know much about the youngsters history, it was a sore topic for the Orc, so she didn't ask. All that mattered was that the youngster wanted to help them turn around their bad luck. For that she was grateful.

"The soil shouldn't choke the roots now." Magoza told her, looking down at the freshly tilled ground.

"It shouldn't do, but the lack of rain is the real problem here." Llandri reached around and scratched the centre of her back with her thumb. "I just wish we knew what it was that was stopping them."

"What have you tried?"

"A lot of different things. Tried digging out large trenches near the periphery of the farm so that when it did rain it filled them up. Worked a little, but not as well as expected." Llandri pointed over at the well. "The trench adds to the well water, but it's still not nearly enough." Llandri knelt down and picked up some of the soil in her hand, letting it crumble through her fingers. "We'll have to start seeding." Llandri said as she stood up. "I'll go grab the seeds and put them in baskets, then I'll show you how we plant them, We'll have to grab what little water there is from the well."

"Alright then."

Moments later Llandri had the seeds in two small baskets and showed Magoza how to plant and space out the seeds properly. Soon they were both pacing up and down the field, dropping the seeds at regular intervals, making sure the soil also had enough water, which it didn't.

An hour later they were finished and headed back into the house where they were met by a stern looking Darovin, sat at the end of the dining table.

"Is everything alright?" Llandri asked him. "You look a little foul about something?"

Darovin looked up at them and tried to smile, failing completely. "Nah, it's nothing." he said shaking whatever was bothering him away.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked. "Brendarr hasn't been acting like a s'wit again has he?"

"A slackwit? No, I was thinking that tomorrow, you and Magoza should head to the city instead of Brendarr."

"Why?"

"Well, Magoza's been stuck here since she arrived. She needs to get a change of scenery. You do too."

"Well I suppose it would be good, have you gotten the list ready?"

"It's ready." Darovin said as he passed her it.

"I'll check it now so we don't forget anything."

Llandri began to read down it. "Alright, the usual stuff." She continued to look down the list, her eyebrows raising at the last thing on the list. "We don't want any of that miracle grow potion." She told him flatly. "We tried it before, and it did nothing to help the plants. It's just a waste of gold."

Darovin's head sank. "We have to try something."

"We just have to persevere." she told him.

"How can we!?" he asked, his tone becoming slightly heated. "How can we, when we produce so little? And what we do manage to grow, we eat most of it. We are essentially growing bad crops for ourselves."

Llandri looked out of the window. "Maybe we should all head into the city. Go to the temple and pray."

"We need rain, not prayer!" Darovin snapped.

Llandri looked at him. "When was the last time we tried?" she asked.

"Just before Magoza came." he said. "And foolishly I thought it was a sign." He smiled wistfully at the young Orc who had been stood there silently. "You're a good kid, but not the answer to our woes."

"Then what is?" Llandri asked him. "Where does this end?"

"We just have to persevere a little longer." he told them, echoing his wife's earlier sentiment. "Just as you said."

Llandri took in a deep breath. "I pray that something happens soon to change our fortunes."

"Maybe we should try to find better ways to capture what little does fall here." he told them.

"Like what?" Llandri asked.

"A field of water towers perhaps?" he said thinking aloud.

Llandri bit her lip. The more she thought about it, the more it upset her. In her heart, she knew the farm was not likely to ever recover, but she stayed strong for her husband's sake. This was his family legacy, and it was dead. It had been dead for a long time.

Even though she wanted to leave this place behind, to begin anew. She also couldn't leave her husband. She loved him deeply, and knew if they were to leave, it would have to be on his terms.

This farm was his family's legacy. It was very much a part of him, and for her to demand that they leave just felt wrong to her. She would support him for as long as he needed her too. She would always be there for him, that much she had vowed.

* * *

Early the next morning, Both Llandri and Magoza headed into the nearby ancient city of Almalexia, on the Karo family carriage. The experience was especially strange for the young Orc, as the scenery was most foreign to her. From the strange flora and fauna, most notably the giant mushrooms in the former, and the netch in the latter

The netch were squid like creatures that she saw floating along the plains. She didn't know much about them, apart the fact they were freaky looking. Pretty much like everything else in this strange land.

Another thing that caught her eye were the guar. A two legged lizard creature that seemed to take the place of the horse. In fact the cart they were on was being pulled by a rather large guar.

From what she had been told by her hosts, a cart guar was quite a rare sight. Most people didn't bother with the training it took to get one to pull a cart or wagon, making it a one of a kind in a way.

When they finally entered the strange city, the both of them headed straight for the market district, Magoza pushing a small, tall wooden hand cart with four small wheels. They began to purchase the items written on the list, slowly filling the cart.

As they moved from store to store, Magoza couldn't help but stare at the sights, be indulged by the sounds. Everywhere she looked, she saw strange architecture, every face she looked at, peered back with scarlet eyes.

The thing that struck her most however was the decay. The city looked like it was falling apart, and the streets were littered with the homeless and destitute.

From what she knew, Almalexia was now the most southern city in Dunmer controlled Morrowind. Every city south was now part of the Argonian State, and as such no longer really part of Morrowind. It troubled her, especially when she had learned that they were once all part of an empire. More so when she discovered the Morrowind used to take slaves from Black Marsh, the Argonian homeland, despite them all being part of the same empire.

As the walked along the streets, the Orc observed a strange looking building in the distance behind a tall wall, more strange than the ones around her. Upon asking Llandri what it was, she was told it was Mournhold, the temple city, a city within a city. Magoza didn't even think a thing was possible. She had heard of districts, but two cities together? It seemed like madness to her.

The two of them stepped into a small shop which was crowded with shelves covered with all kinds of things, from books to candlesticks as well as items the young Orc had no clue as to their use.

Llandri stepped up to the counter. "Good morning." she said to the elderly Dunmer behind the equally crowded counter.

The mer smiled. "Ahh, not sending young Brendarr this time I see." he looked over at Magoza who was holding onto the small wooden hand cart. "And who's this you have with you?"

Llandri turned and waved the young Orc over to the counter. "Her name's Magoza."

"Good to meet you. I'm sure-" he paused and looked over at Llandri. "Sorry I forgot your name."

"Llandri." she told him.

"Of course, and you're married to Karokan."

"No, it's Darovin." she corrected. "Karo is the family name."

"Darokin?"

"No, Darovin."

"Darovin? Isn't that your husband's name?" the shopkeeper asked, clearly muddled and confused.

"Yes." Llandri confirmed. "Darovin is my husband."

"Excellent, now what are you here for?"

"Do you have any lamp oil around?" Llandri asked. "I want to buy a few bottles of it."

"You want an oil lamp?" the man asked. "I may have a few lamps around here somewhere." he turned away from the counter and began to look.

"No." she replied raising her voice. "I want some lamp oil."

"What?" the elderly Dunmer asked turning back to the counter.

"It's the oil I want, not the lamp." she told him. "I want lamp oil,"

"Aahhh, lamp oil. I have a few bottles of the stuff somewhere. Might be a bit old, but I can sell you it cheap."

"Cheap is good." Llandri said. "And I was wondering if you had any bits of metal you had laying about you wanted rid of?"

"Bits of what?"

"Bits of metal."

"Bits of metal?" the shopkeeper asked. "What do you need bits of metal for?"

"To repair things around the farm."

The man smiled. "Of course, you own that farm." he said pointing. "I remember when that Karokan-"

"Darovin." she corrected.

"-yes, when that Darokin's father used to own the farm. Main farm for supplying Almalexia if I recall."

"Now it supplies the least." she told him. "We can barely grow anything out there anymore."

"Yes, I heard. Oh well. Now what was it you wanted?"

"Lamp oil and some scrap metal you have lying around."

"I'll go get them." he informed her, moving off. Into the back.

A few moments later he placed five large bottles of lamp oil on the table and some small bits of metal. After paying for it, she placed the products into the cart Magoza was holding. She tried to push it, but the cart was starting to get too heavy for the young Orsimer

With a quick chuckle, Llandri took control of the cart. They both left the store after a goodbye to the aged Dunmer, and headed off to gather the rest of the things they needed, albeit they took their time as Llandri gave Magoza a tour of the city.

While it looked like it might have once been most impressive, now it was nothing but poverty and decay.

Magoza asked if they could see Mournhold, but Llandri said they didn't have time, and they proceeded to gather the rest of the supplies they needed from various shops.

Once they had everything, they headed back to the farm, just as the sun was on its final hour before it descended beneath the horizon.

* * *

The journey back to the farm had been quite stressful for Magoza. Not only had the sun set leaving them in darkness, but the creatures in the distance had made the most strange and frightening noises.

While they often made the noises, she had never been in the position of being out in the dark while they made them, and the small lantern that hung off a wooden arm on the cart, did little to illuminate their surroundings beyond a few feet.

On several occasions the young Orsimer thought she had actually seen eyes staring back at them in the darkness from the side of the road.

As soon as they were home, Magoza began to feel better. This land felt far more dangerous than High Rock or Skyrim had ever felt, and she didn't like it. In fact she hated it.

She dared not tell her hosts that fact just in case they took offence. This was their homeland after all, and she was simply a guest in their home. She knew she should be grateful, and she was. They had taken her in despite their obvious hardship. It was a theme that was familiar to Magoza, but she didn't think about that too hard. There were memories of faces she missed deeply, and right now she needed to remain strong.

Darovin, who was stood in the kitchen area smiled at the two as they stepped through the front door. "Bit late aren't we?" he asked.

"Took it slow." Llandri told him. "Wanted Magoza to get the sights and sounds of the city."

"You okay?" he asked the Orc. "Something spooked you?"

"Just the strange noises." she told him, glad that Brendarr wasn't in the room. Magoza knew that he would probably use it to deride her in some way. While she liked the Dunmer teenager, he didn't seem to like her for some reason, and she knew it all too well.

"Strange noises?" Darovin inquired.

"The creatures were making noises in the dark."

"Well they do make a lot of noise." Darovin agreed. "So what did you make of the city?"

"It was nice." she told him. "A lot of homeless though."

Llandri nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's a shame that. We should be grateful that we're managing to keep our heads just above the water in that regard."

"I saw the temple city behind the wall."

"You went to the temple?" he asked them.

"No." Llandri said. "We saw it in the distance."

"You didn't pray?" Darovin asked her.

"Not today." Llandri said. "Was thinking we should go out as a family and do it."

"You know how I hate leaving the farm with no one to watch over it." he said to her. "Besides, It's done us no good in the past, why would it do any good in the future?"

"I know it hasn't." Llandri accepted. "Just a thought."

"I know." he replied with a small smile.

The three of them sat there in silence for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

Magoza yawned loudly. It had been a long day, and the young Orsimer was starting to feel it catch up with her.

"Tired?" Darovin asked with a smirk.

"Yes." she replied. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight." Llandri said to her.

"See you in the morning." Darovin added.

"See you tomorrow." Magoza said shortly before going upstairs to bed.

As she drifted to sleep, the sights and sounds of the city drifted through her mind. A single tear of regret rolled down her cheek. She wished Meratur her father, and Bagol her mother could see this place. She wished Valerie and Tam could have seen it also.

She missed them all dearly. But there was nothing she could do about that now. Nothing at all.


	4. DaggerintheWindCh03

**Chapter III**

The snow fell quite heavily in the small, ruined city of Winterhold. Once the city had been the Capital of Skyrim, and the great college had been looked upon with great respect. Now, one was just a memory, and the other a sore topic of discussion. The latter was seen in contempt across the land, while the former nothing more than a joke amongst the other Jarls. No matter what they had been before in ages past, now they were both mere shells of their former glory and power.

Valerie Iron-Axe, an ex-Legion Nord who currently wore a simple thick belted tunic and dark leggings, stood near the bridge to the college, on the very spot where the young Orc Magoza, and the crazed murderous Orc Burag had vanished, not two months ago.

Magoza had come into her life at a time when she'd had absolutely nothing to live for. She had thought not only that her husband was dead, but her coin was running dry, and her life utterly had absolutely no meaning whatsoever. She had been living day-to-day, with no prospect of any future, and the joyous memories of the past, had been long washed away by pain and anguish.

But Magoza had come along and had shown her how to feel again, how to _be _again. The young Orc had become something of a daughter figure in her loveless life, despite the fact that it had only been a few days she had known her.

Then the Thalmor had come looking for Tam, an Altmer who had tried to escape them for so long. Valerie and Magoza had been dragged into it, becoming fugitives of Whiterun hold and possibly the Imperial Legion themselves. The Legion had been assisting the vile Elves, believing in their twisted lies.

It hadn't been till they had stopped in the Nightgate in on the road between Dawnstar and Winterhold, that her husband had suddenly turned up after a five-year absence, with Magoza's father Meratur in tow. At first she had been furious with him, wanting him to leave her life forever. But the real fear that he might actually leave her was too much. She begged him never to leave her again. Thus far he hadn't done.

That brought them on to Winterhold, where they had faced off with Burag, an Orc who had seemingly wanted Magoza's life above all else. Doran, Rontag's friend had been killed. But before the murderous Orc could kill anyone else, Magoza and he disappeared in a fiery explosion that Valerie knew was instigated by the young Orc.

Meratur, an Altmer who had been Magoza's true father, not Burag, had only just revealed this fact to her. He took her death hard, and after the funeral he had left Winterhold without saying so much as goodbye.

"Valerie?" she heard Tam ask from behind her, breaking her from her thoughts.

The Nord turned around to see the Altmer wearing the same helmet-less steel-plate armour she always wore. Her slightly wrinkled face gave the Altmer more of a look of an age around fifty, not her true age of over a hundred-and-eighty.

Valerie had heard that the Elves lived a long time, but to her such an age seemed almost impossible. How could one live for over a hundred years? It seemed strange to her, almost frightening that an age as great as that was possible. From what Tam had told her, under the right circumstances Elves could live for hundreds of years.

It made her age of thirty-eight seem insignificant by comparison. She felt like nothing more than a child when compared to such an age. It did make her feel better, as her husband Rontag was only thirty-three, a good five years younger than her.

At the time when she and Rontag had first began to see each other, Valerie had thought she had struck gold. He had been nineteen and she had just turned twenty-five. He had been young and quite shy back then, she saw that he was easily put off by the advances of the ladies. Despite knowing the age difference might be a turn off for him, she had carefully tried her luck. Fortunately, they both hit it off rather quickly. Later, they had gone on and adventure together across the land.

From Riften to Morthal, to Markarth to Bruma. They'd seen pretty much all of Skyrim in their youth, except for Winterhold. The two had even ventured into some of Cyrodiil, namely to the aforementioned city of Bruma.

When the war came, she heard her father had joined the Imperial Legion to fight off the Aldmeri Dominion. Both her and her husband joined soon after.

But things had gone badly. The Elves took the Imperial City, and in a battle near the city of Chorrol, she had found herself impaled by a conjured Aldmeri sword.

She not only found herself being sent home, but a few months later, she heard that her father had been killed in what was to be known as the 'Battle of the Red Ring,' where Imperial forces retook the Imperial City from the Dominion.

"You okay?" Tam asked the Nord, breaking her out of her thoughts once more.

Valerie smiled. "What is it, friend?" she asked the Altmer, in her heavy Skyrim accent.

"We received a letter from Meratur." Tam informed her, the Altmer's accent clearly from northern Cyrodiil.

"Where is this it?" Valerie asked, feeling her heart begin to beat faster. He had left so suddenly and under such tragic circumstances, that she had feared for his well-being.

"Rontag has it, he's in The Frozen Hearth." Tam said.

The Frozen Hearth was Winterholds only inn. Though back before the great collapse, where most of the city had fallen into the sea, it had not been the case. The city had been populated with multiple such establishments, but The Frozen Hearth had widely been considered the worst. The story was, that after a particularly bad series of storms had ravaged the coastline, most of the city, including the competition had been washed into the ocean. The Frozen Hearth had become the best inn in Winterhold by default, as it was the only one left. It was still better than nothing, even though its drinks tended to be watered down to the point of them being almost just water.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Valerie told the fair-haired eight-foot tall Altmer.

"You sure you're okay?" Tam asked with clear concern.

"Just thinking." The Nord replied.

"Well, we'll be in the inn."

"I'll be right there, don't you worry. Just give me a moment more."

Tam nodded before heading to the inn. Valerie stood there for a few moments more, staring at nothing, lost in thought. She still remembered the explosion that had taken her friend's life. How she had cried out her name in sheer anguish.

"I miss you Magoza." she whispered. "I knew you for such a short time, and yet you made such an impression on my life."

The fair-haired Nord turned and headed to the inn. Once inside she made her way over to the table in the corner where her husband Rontag and friend Tam were currently sat.

Rontag had shoulder length light brown hair, a not-tied beard, blue eyes and light, slightly aged skin. While he liked wearing his old steel armour, right now he was in a simple thick blue tunic and green leggings, which far from complimented each other.

Valerie pulled out a chair and seated herself.

"You should read it, might make you feel a bit better." her husband said holding out the letter.

Valerie smiled at him. "You should read it to me." she said. "I like listening to you speak."

Rontag grunted. "Are you sure?" he asked with clear trepidation. "I'm not very good at reading, you know that."

Unlike his wife, Rontag's accent wasn't nearly as thick as it had once been. He could attest that to the years both in Cyrodiil as an Imperial Soldier, and in Hammerfell as he helped the Redguards drive the Dominion out.

"I'm sure." she said. "I don't care if it's not perfect." Valerie added, trying to bolster his confidence.

He cleared his throat before he began to slowly read the letter. "_Hello Valerie, Rontag and Tam._" he began. He looked up at his wife to make sure she wasn't laughing at his terrible reading skills. Satisfied that she wasn't he continued on._ "This is Meratur. I left rather-_" Rontag paused. "Abruptly?" he asked pointing at the word. "I don't want to read this." he complained. "I'll make myself look like a fool."

Valerie smiled at Rontag's unwillingness, to read the letter. "You're better than you make out. If you'd only try."

"Others don't need to try, they just read." he said bitterly. "I struggle with it all the time."

"If that's how you feel." Valerie said.

"I do." he confirmed.

"You want to read it Tam?" she asked the Altmer.

Before Tam could respond, Rontag happily slid the letter in front of her. She promptly picked it up with no complaints whatsoever.

"Okay, where was we?" Tam asked.

"Just after our names." Rontag told her.

"I'll just start from the beginning, give a run down of what Rontag read." the Altmer said to them. "It basically says hello, tells us that it's him. Then says he left abruptly because he was grieving the loss of the daughter he barely knew. He apologizes for the way he was acting." Tam looked across at Valerie. "The next bit I'm going to read as it's written."

"Go ahead."

Tam cleared her throat. "_If you are wondering what happened to me, then don't worry. Everything's fine. I returned to Solitude where I met up with Magoza's half-brother and half-sister."_

"So he went to Solitude." Valerie said. "I wonder if he and the two Redguard bards had drinks together?"

"Only one was a bard." Rontag corrected. "An annoying one at that."

Tam continued on._ "Moth, the brother has now moved on. To where, I'm not sure. Durza, the sister however has stayed with me here. I may return to Jehanna in High Rock at some point, but right now I am helping the general stationed here. She was my commanding officer before I left the Legion all those years ago, and since she temporarily reinstated me, I agreed to help. Though from what she tells me, they are close to finding a replacement for her and when that happens she is to retire from service. I have asked her what she will do and I believe she wants to return with me and Durza to High Rock, so I will wait here till then._

"_I've seen Kalon and Jalia since I arrived, and while I believe it was Kalon that wished to graduate from the Bard's College, they have both become bards in a way. Jalia is fairly good with the drum, while Kalon will go far with his skills on the lute. I have not really spoked to them much, but I know they send their regards._

"_I still miss Magoza, but I feel that she is in a far better place now. She is with the Divines in Aetherius, and I'm sure she is looking down on us with a smile. Thank you for everything. Meratur."_

Valerie took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to burst from her eyes. "It's good to know he's alright." she said.

"It's good to know he's well." Rontag agreed. "But we barely know him. Why did he send a letter?"

"Because he wanted to." Tam said.

Valerie wiped her eyes. "I know Magoza meant a lot to him, and she meant a lot to me. It _is_ good to know he's alright. I just wish he'd stayed a little longer."

"Why?" Rontag asked.

"Because I would have liked to have known him better." Valerie said wistfully. "He knew Magoza the best, and I'd liked to have heard what stories he had to tell."

Rontag shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Valerie." he said in a soft, disarming manner. "You barely knew the Orc girl."

Valerie stared at him with a frown. "What is that supposed to mean?" she questioned.

"It's been three months." he said to her.

"And?" Valerie asked him, anger beginning to build up inside of her. Rontag didn't understand, _couldn't _understand how she felt. He seemed to have already forgotten about his own friend Doran's death at the hands of Burag, but she wouldn't forget Magoza's.

"Don't you think it's time you started to look at the future instead of the past?" he continued on.

The chair Valerie was sitting on crashed to the floor as she rose up sharply. Tam held her breath in anticipation of what would happen next.

Valerie pointed an accusing finger at her husband. "You might not of cared for her you heartless bastard, but she meant something to me!" she spat.

With that, she stormed out of the inn, kicking the fallen chair hard as she passed, leaving Rontag stunned, and Tam feeling rather uncomfortable.

Rontag turned to Tam who was looking at the her hands as she rested them on the table. "What was that about!?" he asked.

"You know that she cared deeply for the girl, even if she did know her for less than a week."

"I just don't get it." He revealed. "It's a tragedy, I understand that. But it's been _three _months."

"She'll get over it in her own time." Tam said. "You just need to give her that time."

"She's just as mopey now as she was last month, and the month before." he said.

"Then you haven't been paying much attention to her feelings then have you." the Altmer accused. "She's healing, it's just taking a while." Tam folded her arms. "How about you? Doran meant a lot to you?"

Rontag rested his hands upon the tabletop, his mood becoming increasingly more sombre. "He was my brother in a way. He died in battle as he would have wanted. But it was on his back. He would have preferred it to have been on his feet."

"So you must understand how your wife feels to lose someone?" Tam asked him.

"But I knew Doran for a long time."

"How long is long?"

"About six years."

"And you think that you're allowed to be upset at Doran's passing, but your wife isn't allowed to be the same, just because you knew your friend for longer?"

Rontag's eyes narrowed. "It's been three months. I have moved on."

"Have you?" Tam asked him. "I see how you look when you think nobody is watching. How your posture sags. You miss your friend, and the fact that Valerie feels the same way about hers and isn't afraid to show it, just reinforces the pain you, yourself feel."

He glared at her. "Don't presume to know me little Elf!" he warned. "I didn't see anyone you cared about dying at the hands of that bastard Orc!"

The Atlmer webbed her fingers tightly and took a deep breath in an attempt to keep herself calm. "I have lost _everything_." she told him coldly. "Everyone I ever knew, everyone I ever cared about was destroyed by the Thalmor."

Rontag looked away. "They destroyed a lot of people's lives. You're not special." he said coldly. "They killed Valerie's father. I suppose I was lucky. My folks died before I knew them, but don't you go making out you're special."

"Does that make it better though?" she asked him angrily. "Should I be joyful just because a lot of people lost loved ones to the Dominion?"

"That's not what I meant." he said defensively.

"What did you mean?" she questioned.

Rontag looked away without responding.

Tam folded her arms. "I'm waiting for an answer."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Look, I shouldn't have said that, it's just that like a lot of folks, I don't have much left."

"You still have your wife, who loves you very much." Tam told him. "Don't let that slip from your grasp. Be there for her. You need her love right now as much as she needs yours."

The Nord rose up from his chair slowly. "You're right." he said with a heavy sigh. "I'll go find her and try to repair the damage I've done."

* * *

Valerie was sitting on the porch railing outside the small house, that the three of them had managed to acquire. It had been a bit of a wreck when they had arrived, but a bit of hard work and they had managed to make it liveable. Even if the roof was quite leaky.

The house itself lay at the end of the street near the bridge that lead to the mages college. It was small, and often uncomfortable for the three of them to be living in together, but they had learned to manage somewhat.

Everything around her was covered in a thick layer of snow. It had only just stopped snowing, shortly after she had left the inn, the trail left from her boot prints still fresh on the white ground.

The Nord woman looked up as she noticed someone approach. She looked away when she saw it was her husband, not wanting to talk to him. Not after what he had said to her in the inn.

"I'm sorry about what I said earlier." he apologised earnestly. "I know she meant a lot to you, it's just that I'm trying to get over Doran's death. It's difficult for the both of us."

Valerie looked over at the meandering bridge that lead to the mages college, it's arches hanging perilously over nothing, where the ground had given way long ago.

"I know you miss her, I just don't like to see you upset." he continued.

She looked over at him. His long light brown hair blew softly in the wind. She loved him so much, but she also hated him. He had gone to fight in Hammerfell without telling her, and for that she couldn't forgive him.

"Please say something." Rontag pleaded.

"I need time." she told him. "I need time to get over it."

"I know. Is there anything I can do?"

Valerie climbed off the porch railing where she sat and stepped over to him. He stiffened up, expecting her to strike him. Instead, she reached around his waist, hugging him tightly.

"Just hold me." she said.

He stretched his large muscular arms around her waist and held her. The warmth of their bodies together, was like a blanket against the cold harsh wind.

"Promise me you'll never leave me." Valerie said.

"I will never do that to you again, my love. As Mara as my witness, I shall stay by your side till death takes me to Sovngarde."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

She pulled away from him and gripped his hand before leading him into their home, pushing the front door open and pulling her husband inside, before closing it shut.

Valerie dragged Rontag to their tiny bedroom, passing the many buckets that were there to catch water from the leaky roof. The tiny bedroom was just large enough for a small double bed, and a single set of drawers. Around the bed was only enough room for one to shimmy around.

With lust, she locked lips with her husband, before slipping her hands beneath his shirt, lifting it up slightly as she caressed his thick, hairy chest.

With a quick shove, she pushed him onto the bed where she climbed on top of him, removing his shirt before kissing him passionately.

She removed her tunic and threw it to the ground, before tugging at his leggings, pulling them off and discarding them. Slowly she removed her own, teasing him with a gentle kiss on his belly button. He let out a sigh of pleasure, as she then moved up his body, her lips finding his.

They embraced each other, for the first time since they had been reunited. An hour later, they were both asleep in each others arms.

* * *

Outside, in the darkness of evening, the snow fell lightly over Winterhold. Inside the Iron-Axe residence, the floor was littered with buckets, in an attempt to catch the water that dripped through the patchy thatched roof.

The three of them, Valerie, Rontag and Tam, were all sitting around the tiny kitchen table, eating the same thick broth that they had eaten for almost three months now.

It had been tough, as they had very little coin to spare. They had tried to change that fact by going on semi-frequent trips out into the wilderness, to remove dangerous animals that had made residence far too close to the road.

Earlier, Tam had been informed that the Jarl wanted them to do something for him. There had been reports of a pack of two or three sabre cats near Stillborn Cave, down the one and only road south of the city. The Jarl wanted them to deal with the animals, as they could easily become a nuisance to any travellers.

Between fixing the roof and getting some better food on their table, they needed that gold. So it had been decided between them that they would set off tomorrow, and begin their expedition to rid the roadside cave of the nuisance.

Right now however, Tam tried to ignore the two as they giggled at each other. Somehow they had not only managed to repair the rift between them, but to get drunk together, and act as thought they had both reverted into teenagers.

"So what's it like to be living with two women?" Valerie asked him playfully with a sly smile.

"Well in my eye, there is only one woman in this house." Rontag reached over and took his wife's hand in his. "Besides I've only seen you in all your natural beauty and splendour."

Valerie glanced sideways at Tam, barely able to contain the chuckle that escaped her lips. She looked down at the armour the Altmer was never without. "Well she certainly does like to cover herself up."

Tam scowled at them. She didn't know what had gotten into them. A few hours ago, Valerie seemed to hate Rontag, now they were making googly eyes at each other and acting uncharacteristically immature.

"Perhaps a good swill of the good stuff will loosen her up." Rontag suggested.

Valerie playfully punched him on the arm. "I thought I was the only one you saw as I woman in this house?"

"You are." Rontag said quickly. "It's just that I've never seen an Elf's, y'know."

Valerie burst out laughing. "Come to think of it neither have I."

Tam didn't like the way the conversation had turned. She began to eat her broth a little faster.

"So, are you the same under all that armour?" Valerie asked her.

The Altmer quickly finished off her broth without responding and rose up from her seat.

"We haven't upset you have we?" Rontag asked, suddenly concerned.

"No, I'm going out for some air." she replied before stepping outside onto the porch, in the cold darkness of the late winter night.

She heard the two love-birds laughing back inside the house, which brought a small smile to her face. It had been a long time since she had felt like part of a family, and even though the two often irritated her, such as tonight. She found that she didn't want a single thing to change.

Unfortunately the Thalmor had always caught up to her, and she had no illusions that they wouldn't find her here eventually. The only thing that would stop them from wiping out the tiny city of Winterhold to get her, when they finally did find her location, was probably the mages college. Even though the locals didn't like it much, she felt that it was the secret protector of the city. A despised watchman, who kept those that hated them not only at bay, but somewhat safe.

As the Altmer stepped back inside the house, she found the two Nords trying to suck each others faces off. She smiled inwardly as she made her way to her small room and went to bed.


	5. DaggerintheWindCh04

**Chapter IV**

The morning had finally arrived in Winterhold. For Tam however, it had been far from a restful night, and she knew it certainly couldn't have been for Valerie or Rontag. At least for an hour after they had both gone to bed.

As she stepped out her room into the small living area, that included the kitchen and small wooden table. She was met by the rather happy looking couple.

"Good morning Taemwyn." Valerie greeted joyfully. "You look rather tired this morning." she said, noticing the Altmer's red, sleep deprived eyes.

"I would be surprised if anyone in Winterhold got any sleep last night, with the amount of noise the two of you were making."

Valerie went bright red, while Rontag bit his lower lip, looking away sheepishly.

"Sorry." Valerie apologised. "We both had a little too much to drink."

Tam seated herself down at the table, after grabbing some bread from the breadbox. "I was resting peacefully until you two went to bed. Then after you'd both finished your 'fun', I couldn't get back to sleep."

"Should we hold off the trip to get those sabre cats till tomorrow?" Rontag asked them.

"I think we need to all be fully rested and ready." Tam said. "Sabre cats are nasty bastards on their worst day. We need to be alert, we need to all be awake."

Rontag more than happily agreed. "You're right, and I do seem to be suffering from a mild headache."

Valerie put her arm around him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "You've got a hangover."

"I don't get hangovers." he protested. "It's just a slight headache."

"I blame that weak, bland Hammerfell ale." she joked.

He smiled wistfully. "I always told Doran the same thing."

Tam took a large bite out of her bread, as the two Nords gave each other a long hug. They both missed their lost friends, and Rontag seemed to be excepting his feelings on Doran's death now, instead of hiding from them.

Tam swallowed the chewed food. "I was just thinking. Since we're going to be heading into the frozen tundra, we could maybe find someone else willing to come along. A hired body, working as reinforcement in case things don't go quite to plan."

Rontag snorted. "Worried about some cat's?"

"Don't underestimate the sabre cat." Valerie warned her husband. "They're vicious things. And fast."

Tam agreed. "That and there might be three of them." She quickly took another bite of her bread and ate it before continuing on. "We're not hunting deer here, these things are nasty."

Valerie nodded. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. Do you have anyone in mind?"

Tam regarded the two for a moment before responding. There was a real chance they would refuse her suggestion. "Well a couple of times while I've been at the inn, one of those mages from the college has come in."

Rontag waved his arms and shook his head vehemently. "No!" he uttered. "By Ysmir's beard, absolutely not!"

Valerie didn't say anything, she just remained quiet. Silently anticipating who exactly the Altmer had in mind.

"Why not?" Tam asked him. "Surely when you were in the Legion fighting the war, you fought alongside mages?"

He nodded. "From my experience, it's more like 'fighting far behind us.' They hang back away from the front lines and let the swordsman take the blade to the gut." he looked over at his wife for confirmation. When he didn't get any, he pointed to her side. "You were run through with a sword, while those mages stood out of harms way, casting their tricks."

Once again she didn't speak, she just shrugged.

Tam dismissed his comment. "Considering magic is most effective when used at range, then of course they stayed back. Your argument is invalid."

"I don't care. The folks around here don't trust those mages, and for good reason."

"Unreasonable reasons are not reasonable." Tam told him.

"What?" he asked confused by her odd wording. "Speak Cyrodilic woman!"

"Suffice to say, we still have yet to hear Valerie's take on this."

Valerie shrugged once more. "I don't really have an opinion."

"You must have?" Rontag urged. "Do you really want a mage throwing fire balls everywhere, while we're trying to hunt dangerous animals?"

"It might be good to have an extra body." his wife said after a moment's pause.

"I thought you were smart when it came to those magic folk. What happened?" Rontag questioned. "Magic users can't be trusted, not out here anyway. You know that."

"No I don't know that." his wife shot back.

"Name one person who flung magic about that was even remotely trustworthy?" he asked.

"Magoza." Valerie said quietly as she rose up slowly from her chair.

"I didn't mean that." Rontag said quickly, trying in vain to take it back.

"I'm going for some air." Valerie said before leaving, closing the door gently behind her.

Rontag glared at Tam. "This is _your _fault elf!" he uttered angrily, as he rose up and barged his bedroom door open, slamming it shut with a hefty thump.

"Great, just great!" Tam said in frustration. She placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands.

Today felt like it was going to be a long day. She found that she preferred the two when they were both drunk and giggly.

* * *

The hammer struck the metal once again, as the Dunmer farmer Darovin, tried to make the blade piece for the hoe. He never had been very good at it, but he always managed to make do. Sometimes he even managed to make a single piece before nightfall. Unfortunately, today wasn't looking like one of those days.

He gripped the metal with the long tongs and once again dipped it into the forge. He pulled the metal out, hammering at the molten iron, hoping he could get it into shape.

The Dunmer paused briefly, wiping sweat off of his brow. That's when he saw young Magoza, stood staring at him from across the small cobbled yard from near the farmhouse.

He smiled. "Hello there, anything the matter?"

The young Orc slowly walked towards him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but-" she paused, uncertain how to say what she wanted to tell him.

"Go on, I don't mind."

"You're doing it wrong."

Darovin let out a small chuckle. "I know." he said, being honest, with not only the Orc, but himself. "I have to be good at almost everything around here, but the price of that is I'm a master of pretty much nothing."

Magoza halted only a few paces from the forge. "I know a thing or two about smithing odd bits. While my mother did a lot of odd jobs, like collecting herbs for the stronghold's wise woman, her main role was that she worked the forge. It's customary for all Orc's to learn how to smith, but I enjoyed my mother's company and spent quite a bit of time there."

"I think this might be a bit different from smithing warhammers." he joked.

"Well, strongholds are generally self-sustaining, so the smith was expected to be able to make anything, from nails and brackets to weapons and armour. I know a thing or two, even though I'm nowhere near as good as my mother was."

While Darovin knew only a little about the young Orc's history, he did know enough to know memories of it upset her. When she talked about the Stronghold, and her mother in particular, a deeply sad expression would always cross her face. While he wanted to know what had happened to her, he also didn't want to pry into her history. It had clearly caused her torment and heartbreak.

He waved her over to the anvil. "Come on then, let's see you give this a go."

Magoza stepped over to him, and he passed her the hammer and tongs, taking a step back to watch her handiwork. Immediately she began to work the metal, gripping the hammer tightly as she beat the metal into shape, far better than he ever could.

Five hours later she had made two shapely hoe blades, which he promptly fitted to the long wooden handles. Darovin quickly tested them by uprooting some weeds. Much to his surprise, the blade slid cleanly into the hard soil, and he was able to uproot them far easier than he had expected.

He smiled at Magoza. "Looks like we've found you a job."

She returned his smile. "Thank you."

Pleased with how well they had turned out, he placed them in the large tool shed, before both he and Magoza walked over to the large farmhouse.

As they approached the front door, they were both treated to the delightful smell of well made broth.

"Everything going well outside?" Llandri asked as they stepped through the door, into the kitchen. She was looming over the large pot, stirring the broth, her bluish-grey skin washed orange by the glow of the large kitchen fireplace.

Darovin turned and rubbed his hand through Magoza's hair, messing it. "Looks like we found someone who can make bits and bobs for us at the old forge."

The young Orc quickly tried to neaten her hair back up, but gave up after a few strands near her right ear refused to go down.

"So, young Magoza is good at smithing?" Llandri asked.

"Yep, I just wish she'd said something sooner."

Magoza grimaced. "I didn't want to be rude, you've been nice to me, I didn't want to insult your skills at anything."

Darovin let out a laugh. "I insult myself with my skill everyday. You don't have to worry about it."

"Well the cooking is certainly better than what it was back at the stronghold where I grew up." Magoza told them. "Usually just ate fox everyday."

"I'm glad." Llandri said pleased to hear it. "I do try my best. Now can someone go fetch Brendarr. He's at the guar stable."

"I'll do it." Magoza said.

"No, you sit yourself down." Darovin told her. "I'll fetch him."

"Okay."

Darovin left the farmhouse, and made his way across the courtyard and along the dirt pathway, over to the stable. Inside, he saw Brendarr, stood patting the guar on its large bulbous snout. He turned to his father with a scowl.

"Everything okay?" Darovin asked.

"I guess."

"You don't look okay, is something the matter?"

Brendarr turned back to the guar. "I see you've been spending time with that n'wah."

Darovin sighed. "I don't see what your problem is with her." he said. "She's a good worker, and doesn't ask for much in return. We pay her a wage for the work, like we pay you, son. It might not be much, as we can't afford much, but we make do."

"We don't need her here. We were doing fine before."

"No we weren't." Darovin told his son. "With her help, we can all spend more time on actually dealing with the crops. There's so much to do, and three people cannot cope. Besides, I found her a job. It turns out she's pretty good at the anvil."

"There's another job she's stolen from you." his son said, stroking the guar's snout.

"More like saved me from." he replied. "I can now spend time on being an actual farmer, rather than trying to make stuff."

"Sure."

"Give her a chance."

"I don't like her."

"By the wrath of Azura, boy!" Darovin exclaimed. "She's not your replacement, if that's what you think!?"

"I don't know what to think."

"You're eighteen years old, Brendarr." his father pointed out. "You need to act like it."

"I'm sorry, it's just that." he paused. "I don't know, perhaps I am being stupid."

"You're our son, Brendarr, and you'll always be our son. Both me and your mother love you very much. Don't ever forget that."

Brendarr turned gave his father a hug. "It's just that you're spending a lot of time with her."

"She still needs a lot of training, son. If you weren't so negative towards her, I'd have had you show her how to do stuff around the farm, such as care for the guar. But you can be really hostile to her."

"Sorry father."

"You should apologies to her."

"I don't know if I can."

Darovin nodded slowly. "Give it time, son." he said. "Now, let's just get inside. Dinner is ready."

The two of them headed back to the farmhouse. Soon they were all sitting around the kitchen table, eating a bowlful of the broth.

"How is the guar?" Llandri asked her son, before putting a spoonful of the broth into her mouth.

"Fine." Brendarr responded stoically.

"That's good, you really do a good job of keeping him well fed."

Brendarr slurped his broth. "Thanks mother." he said after swallowing the vegetable filled liquid down.

"We found Magoza here a job." Llandri told him.

"Yes I know, at the forge."

"Turns out she's pretty good at it."

"Sure."

They all finished their dinner, and Magoza helped Llandri clean the bowls by taking them out by the well pump. They hand pumped a small amount of water into a bucket and rinsed the copper bowls clean.

Satisfied with their appearance, they took the dishes inside, and placed them on briefly on mantle piece over the fire to dry before putting them away in the cupboards.

With dinner dealt with, they all began their afternoon chores. Those chores involved dealing with pests, such as slugs and other such nuisances, that liked to eat their precious few crops. They did this by using a special poison Llandri had perfected over the years, that killed the pests while leaving the plants not only unaffected, but perfectly safe to eat.

That done, they gathered some more water from the hand pump, giving the precious liquid to the crops that looked like they might actually make it through to harvest.

* * *

Valerie had spent morning sitting in The Frozen Hearth inn, getting a few drinks down her neck. She tried to pace herself, as the thought of the drunkard, Fultheim, back in the Nightgate inn, echoed through her mind. The memory of how he just sat there by the bar, drinking his sorrows away. She didn't want that to happen to her, but there was a strange comfort from the drink that simply couldn't be found anywhere else.

The Nord pushed the half full tankard away, not wanting it anymore. She stood up suddenly, and made her way out into the cold, snow-covered street beyond.

Drinking would do her no good, and she knew it. She had needed the coin she'd just wasted on the drinks of mead and ale, on fixing some of the leaks that plagued their house's roof. Now it would have to wait another few weeks longer.

Of course, there was the trip they were supposed to be going on tomorrow, to kill those sabre cats. Right now however, she wasn't sure if she could go through with it. They'd have to be working as a team, and at this moment she didn't want to be around her husband, let alone have to watch out for him.

Then there was Tam. Valerie felt regretful that she was forced to live through their arguments as of late. She'd had a hard life the past few years, and she deserved better than listening to their bickering.

Valerie knew what the problem was. It was her inability to get over Magoza's death, and it was slowly driving her insane. She knew that she should return home and try and make amends to Rontag, but she felt like she just couldn't face him right now. So instead, she stood there in the middle of the snow covered street staring down at the barren, white wilderness beyond.

"I am such an idiot." she said quietly to herself. She risked pushing her husband away with every argument, and after spending so long wishing he was alive and with her again, it felt like she was going backwards.

But it wasn't just about her. Here she was selfishly thinking of her own loss, when Rontag had lost his best friend. She knew she should be more empathetic towards him because of it, and it made her feel guilty.

She still needed time. She just hoped that by tomorrow, that they had come to some sort of understanding.

Slowly she turned around and headed back into the inn. She had no intention of drinking anymore, instead she planned to perhaps quietly sit there, listening to the other patron's conversations. She liked doing that, there was something serene and relaxing about hearing about other people's joys and woes.

* * *

After all the day's farm chores had been completed, and all the tools locked away in the shed. The Karo family and Magoza, headed inside the farmhouse for supper and a quiet evening.

All four of them, Magoza, Darovin, Llandri and Brendarr, were all sitting by the table. The table itself was illuminated in the darkness primarily by the fire, complimented by the two small lanterns that hung at the other side of the large room, by the door that lead out to the stairwell up to the bedrooms.

Magoza, who was feeling rather curious about Darovin and Llandri, wanted to know how the two Dunmer had met. They clearly loved each other deeply, more so than she thought possible. Magoza wanted to know how they had come to love each other as much as they clearly did.

The two were more than happy to share the story, however Brendarr didn't want to hear it, as he had heard the tale many times before. He said goodnight, and went to bed.

Darovin put an iron kettle of water, on a small stand that lay over the fire, next to the huge cauldron that contained the broth that was constantly on heat over the winter. He sat back down at the table, and began to tell the requested story. "Back when I was much younger, I left our rather prosperous farm to see the lands of Morrowind. It didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped. as I soon found myself with little coin. I ended up in a city called Windhelm, over the border. Horrible place, never want to see it ever again. Anyway, I joined the Dunmer crew of a fishing ship out of Windhelm called _The Lucky Catch_, and began sailing with them. It had been about a year when our Captain heard that Raven Rock, the town on the island of Solstheim needed a good fishing ship, so we headed there. I tell you, it was probably the best decision the captain made." The Dunmer stopped talking, as the iron kettle began to whistle.

Darovin rose up to take the kettle off the stand, wrapping a cloth around it's handle to avoid burning himself. He took it and poured the boiling water into an old pot.

He turned to Magoza. "I know, Llandri wants some tea, but do you want some?" he asked. "It's canis root tea."

"Please." the young Orsimer replied with a smile.

"Great." Darovin said, turning back to his wife. "Perhaps you should carry on telling the story, while I sort the tea out." he suggested.

Llandri continued on eagerly. "At the time I was working as a barmaid at the Raven Rock tavern. When _The Lucky Catch _made port for the first time, they all got drunk and had a good time. All except Darovin that is, who sat on a stool by the bar and drunk very little."

Darovin explained after pouring the tea into three old mugs. "Having gone through a point where I had no coin at all to my name had quite the impact. It had made me a bit of a hoarder." He passed one mug of tea to Llandri, and the other to Magoza, both giving him their thanks for the drink. He inhaled the steam that emanated from his mug deeply, before he took a sip. "In fact, one the reasons I eventually left the _The Lucky_ _Catch, _was because the other crewmen kept trying to rob some of my accumulated wealth from me."

His wife chuckled. "Yes, well back to that night when you were spending very little. We started a conversation. I don't know what it was about initially, but I know it eventually turned to him talking about how he was starting to miss the farm."

"I did?" he asked. "I can't recall."

"Yes you did. I remember because I had never been to the mainland at that point. I had grown up in Raven Rock, and lived there my whole life." she inhaled the aroma of the tea before she took a long slow sip. "Mmmnn, that's good." She continued on. "My horizon had always been marred by the giant plume of smoke and ash, that constantly spewed out of the maw of Red Mountain. I had always wanted to visit the mainland, not the island of Vvardenfell, but mainland Morrowind as I'd never seen it."

Darovin nodded. "Every time the ship made port, I would sit and chat to Llandri." he told Magoza. "I always looked forward to it."

"So did I, it was the highlight of my life back then."

"I then decided to leave the _The Lucky Catch_, and wanted to return home to the farm." Darovin said.

"When he told me he was going to be leaving his ship and the island, I begged him to take me along."

"When I returned home, my folks weren't only ecstatic that I'd come back to them, but that I'd found someone. They wanted me to be wed to her as soon as possible."

"So did I." Llandri said as she put her hand on his. "And I've never regretted that decision since."

"Not even when we have no money and the farm is failing?" Darovin asked her.

"Even now." she confirmed.

Magoza took her first sip of the tea. There was an initial blandness to the drink, but the after-taste was quite pleasant. She hadn't quite drunk anything like it.

"How is it?" Llandri asked her. "Nice?"

"It's good." she answered. "Unusual."

"Canis root tea can be an acquired taste." Darovin told her. "There is an initial blandness, but after that you get a nice taste. Try smelling it. It'll give you more of the flavour in the initial sip, rather than having to wait for it."

She lifted the mug up to her nose and inhaled deeply. She took a quick sip, almost spitting it straight out. The taste was a little stronger than she had expected.

Darovin smiled. "An acquired taste." he repeated.

Magoza nodded. "Yes." she said before taking another sip. "I think I'll just drink it normally."

"You're missing out." Llandri told her, before taking a good sniff of her own tea.

"Maybe I'll get used to it." the Orc told them.

After finishing her mug of tea, Magoza rose up from her chair.

"Goodnight." she said to them.

"See you in the morning." Llandri said with a small wave.

"Night." Darovin said, before taking another sip of his tea.

Magoza headed upstairs to bed, feeling confident that she had finally found a true home.


	6. DaggerintheWindCh05

**Chapter V**

Rasha stared at the thick iron bars from within a cell, in Windhelm prison. While the how she got to be in here was fully known, the why was another matter entirely.

All she had wanted was a room for the night at the inn. Now however, she found herself in her tunic and leggings, that she usually wore beneath her armoured robe, which had been taken away, along with her boots and glass dagger.

The Khajiit had been sleeping at the inn, when the guards had suddenly burst into her room. They had demanded that she come along with them. She did as they asked, pleading with them all the while, trying to make them understand that they had made a mistake.

Several hours later, after a short nap, Rasha had tried once again to communicate with them. Ultimately however, it had proven rather fruitless. It was clear that they had no intention of listening, and so far they hadn't given her any water, food, or any clue as to what exactly it was that she had done wrong. What Rasha did know, was that she would have to escape.

While picking the lock was the obvious answer to her predicament, the guard standing at the opposite side of the room in full view, would make that quite impossible.

Observing the shift patterns of the guards would be the first task. Second was figuring out the best moment to undertake the escape attempt, and third was to escape the city and head north as fast as possible.

She had already lost too much time because of her incarceration, and due to the actions of the city guards, her target here in the city was now probably a not an option. Not without the risk of being discovered and put back in here, or worse, executed on the spot.

None of the two options seemed very appealing. But then again, neither did going against the contract she had with the Thalmor. Fortunately they had stated that the Bosmer, Faldan, wasn't as important as the Altmer up in Winterhold. So she hoped that as long as she removed the primary target, that they would see her contract as fulfilled.

"Move away from the bars!" the guard barked in a thick accent, placing his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

Rasha moved backwards, seating herself on the wooden stool that adorned her cell. The last thing she wanted right now was a confrontation with a prison guard.

Or did she? Perhaps the distraction would help her escape, sooner rather than later. It had seemed futile before, but that had been with a different guard. Or at least she thought it had been a different guard. They all wore helmets that completely masked their identity, making it difficult to tell.

"Why am I here?" she asked him.

"Don't know, don't really care."

The truth was there probably wasn't a reason, besides the fact that she was a Khajiit, and not a human. She had seen how the Dunmer were treated here, and they physiologically, were almost the same as the Nords, with only a few differences. She was much different, and their intolerance showed, both in the way they both looked at, and addressed her.

Right now, all she wanted was to annoy the guard, and make him slip up so that she could make good on her escape. If he got close enough to her cell, she could grab him, knock him unconscious and get the key.

All she had to do, was to somehow, get him to lower his guard.

The Khajiit cleared her throat. "Erm if you don't mind me asking."

"I do mind." he responded, disinterested in whatever she had to say.

Rasha decided to ignore his response and push on. "Could you find out why I'm here?"

"I don't trust you." he said. "You're a cat, I hate cats, and your accent is Cyrodilic, I hate people from Cyrodiil."

"Well maybe I can change your mind?"

"Not if I cut out your tongue." he said, as he moved over to a nearby chair, sitting down on it.

It wasn't going quite how she expected. While the guard was being quite aggressive, as she had planned, instead of working for her, it seemed to be working against her. Maybe another tactic would work, appeasing to his Nordic heritage, and sense of honour might be a better strategy. She wanted him near her cell door, not sitting at the other side of the room.

"I like strong, self-willed people. Who do you like?" she asked, attempting the other strategy.

"Nords."

"I like Nords too. A very proud people."

"Yes."

"Some of the best warriors in Tamriel, are Nords."

"Yes."

"You have a standard steel sword, do you like it?"

"Yes."

"How's the balance on it?"

"Yes."

His final answer revealed that he hadn't even been listening to her. She could have said anything, and he wouldn't have known. Her tactics were proving to be futile. He wasn't interested in listening to her, and her patience was wearing thin. She had never found herself jailed before, and it was starting to feel like the cell walls were closing in on her. The Khajiit wanted out, but she couldn't. She was trapped, and that made her feel absolutely helpless.

"Please can you find out what I did wrong after your shift?" she appealed. "I just want to know so that I can make amends."

"Maybe I will."

"Please?"

"No, because a Nord never begs."

Rasha scoffed at that. She had heard plenty of Nords beg. Either because they were destitute in the street and in need of coin to buy food, or because they were one of her targets, and she had her knife to their throat.

"Sure, Nords _never _beg." Rasha said sarcastically.

The guard didn't appreciate her response. "You'll stay in there for a _very_ long time, Khajiit."

She'd had enough of the cell, and she'd had enough of him. She grabbed the bars and shook them "You'll regret putting me in here!" she hissed. "Let me out, coward!"

The guard did nothing.

"You just wait!" she yelled. "Come over here, milk drinker!"

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up!" the guard warned her.

Rasha knew she was getting to him, by his . All she had to do was keep it up, and he would slip up and make a mistake. It was only a matter of time, now.

"You're mother was a Sload, and your father was blind drunk!"

He rose up from the chair suddenly. Rasha waited in anticipation. He was moments away from rushing over to the cell to beat her senseless. Instead, much to her surprise, he turned and left.

"I guess I upset him." she said aloud.

Moments later the guard returned, only he had friends with him. Five of them in total. They rushed over to the cell, flinging the door open, as they all jumped her, their fists smashing at her face and body.

It hadn't gone quite as she planned, but Rasha would take what she could get. If they were to treat her like an animal, then she would act like an animal.

In the flurry of fists, she bit down hard on the first thing she could get her teeth into. She heard one of the men scream out in pain as she locked her jaw onto his exposed forearm. The other guards stopped their attack almost immediately, and tried to pull her mouth open.

"Get the bitch off me!" she heard a man yell in clear agony.

Rasha felt them start pulling at her more violently. She opened her jaw suddenly, letting go of his arm, throwing all her weight backwards, pulling the guards with her. Three of the guards all fell to the floor, taking her with them. But she was already planning her next move. She jumped back to her feet, her superior speed and reflexes easily outmatched that of the guards'.

Rasha thrust her way through the remaining two, one still clutching his bloody forearm, sending them both crashing to the ground. With the keys she had expertly taken off one of the guards in her hand, she slammed the cell door shut, and locked it, throwing the keys across the room.

Rasha then ran out of the dungeon, up the stone stairs, and down a stone corridor. She entered a room with chests, a desk and some beds. She briefly thought about looking for her equipment, but that was cut short as she heard shouts from behind her. She quickly grabbed a steel dagger off of a nearby sideboard, before quickly leaving the room.

The Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit headed down some more stairs, and through a door, setting foot in the large main room of the Palace of Kings.

Every guard in veiw drew their swords, ready to either recapture her, or cut her down where she stood. Without a moment to spare, she ran, lowering her posture. A guard swung his sword at her, but she rolled past him, evading his attack. Almost instantly, she was back on her feet, pushing her way out through the large iron doors. The harsh cold of the late winter evening, hit her hard, her thin clothes unable to keep a single shred of warmth in.

She tried desperately to ignore it, continuing to run through the streets, heading into the Gray-Quarter. If there was one place in the city where the people wouldn't help the city authorities, it was there.

She headed down some icy steps, trying desperately to maintain her pace, while keeping her footing. But she slipped on a patch of black ice, and began to tumble head over heels. She reached out her hand in a vain attempt to grapple hold of anything to stop her plummet, but it was useless. She came to a rest at the base of the steps, her crumpled form sprawled out amongst the stone paving.

* * *

The Khajiit lay there on the bed, of the small one room house. She was unconscious and injured, wearing rough uninsulated clothing that would do her little good here in the cold city.

For Faldan, a Bosmer, who was currently down on his luck, healing her would be an interesting challenge. Though her fall, also shone some light onto one of the main reasons why he wanted so desperately to leave this place. If only he had the coin.

The slippery stone steps that the poor soul had fallen down, had in the past, not only caused the smashing limbs, but killed quite a few people.

The strange thing was, that the accidents that involved falling down icy steps, tended to only happen in the Gray-Quarter.

The Gray-Quarter was the area of Windhlem, where the Dunmer, or Dark Elves, had been placed. Possible because it was the most treacherous area of the city, with the many stairs and narrow alleyways, where people could fall and not be found for days, or in some cases weeks.

Luckily for the Khajiit, he had been on his way home in the dwindling light of the evening when he had found her. She had been laying in the snow at the base of the treacherous stairs, her form dark against the white in the lamplight. More luckily, was that and he had some knowledge in healing. Hopefully he'd have her up and about in no time. Unfortunately, proper healing required some knowledge of the race of the one being healed, and he honestly had little knowledge in that regard on any race. That meant he would simply have heal her to the best of his ability, which wouldn't be too hard as she didn't seem, at least on the outside, to be too badly injured. He held his hands out over her form, beginning the healing process.

In reality, he didn't really know much about the Khajiit, or the why and how of the different breeds. All he knew was the Khajiit in front of him looked oddly mer-like. She had brown hair, an almost regular looking nose, and pointed ears on the side of her head, as opposed to the top, where Khajiit often seemed to have them. If it wasn't for her brown fur, tail, and larger jaw, he'd have thought her to actually be actually some kind of mer.

He felt his magicka soon dwindle as he tried to heal some of her wounds. He wasn't really a healer, just someone who knew a few helpful spells. As he began to turn away, he saw her eyes flutter open, much to his surprise. She looked up at him, her face ridden with confusion, her cat-like eyes narrowing as they met his. Suddenly he found that she was up, and a dagger was pressed against his throat. He let out a short cry in shock and terror, not daring to breathe let alone move.

"Who are you!?" she hissed.

"Your healer." he told her, trying not to break down and sob. He was terrified of what she might do, that at any moment she could just slit his throat and end his life.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You slipped." he said, his eyes closed tightly shut, as the dagger pressed against his throat. He felt as though this was it, that his life would last only a few mere moments more.

"Have you told them where I am?"

He dared not speak in case the act of doing so caused the blade to cut into his flesh. He began to shake in fear, his legs felt weak, and his stomach began to churn.

"Have you told them!?" she demanded.

"No." he whispered.

The knife came away from his throat and his knees gave way. He fell to the floor and began to weep.

* * *

As the Bosmer wept on the floor with his head in his hands, Rasha began to feel guilty over how she had reacted to him.

Putting the dagger to his throat was far from the best thing that she could have done, however, when she had awoken she didn't know what to expect. She had needed to assess her surroundings quickly, and that had meant taking control of the situation. Unfortunately that had meant putting the mer through a trauma that he could have done without.

The Khajiit realised that she needed somewhere to rest, and get her bearings. This Bosmer's house seemed like a good place to start. To do that though, she'd need to console him, and try to get him onto her side.

"Sorry, I was caught off guard, I didn't know who you were or what you were doing." She said, hoping the apology would somehow alleviate his fright.

It seemed to do some good, if only a little. The elf began to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"Your not going to kill me?" he asked terrified, his eyes fixed on the wraps the guards had given her to bound her feet in.

The poor sod had thought she was going to end his life. While she was more than capable of killing him, she had no reason to do so. Though, her actual task of murdering an Altmer in Winterhold and some Bosmer here, did cross through her mind. Those were tasks she didn't really want to do.

It made her sick to her stomach to think that she was doing the Thalmor's bidding. Why had she even gone there? The truth was, a bounty hunter with morals doesn't get as much work as one that worked for the Dark Brotherhood, or other amoral individuals. When she did finally get a bounty, the pay tended to be on the lighter side.

She sheathed the steel dagger, by placing it between the cloth belt that held her trousers up, and offered an open hand. "I don't want to hurt you." she said apologetically.

The Bosmer shook his head hiding his face behind his hands. He was still clearly scared for his life.

For a moment she wondered if this was the Bosmer she had been sent to kill here in the city, but quickly dismissed the notion as being too coincidental.

"I really don't want to hurt you." Rasha offered. "I was afraid for my own life, I didn't mean to cause you this anguish."

The Bosmer lifted his head and looked at her, wiping the tears away.

"Come on, stand up. let's get those eyes dried."

He nodded before he slowly stood up. She helped him over to the small wooden chair that lay in front of a small table. He sat down, his limbs still shaking from the ordeal.

"I truly am sorry." she said, looking down at him as he wiped more tears away. She clenched her jaw as a pain shot up her leg.

"I just." he began. "I just wanted to help you."

"I know, It's just that when I awoke, I saw you stood over me and I didn't know who you were, or what you were doing."

The elf was a mess, and she was to blame. She needed to fix it if she wanted to stay here for a day or two and heal up her aching body. The problem was, that she was on a deadline. Or so she had concluded. If she didn't take out her target quickly, then her employers would most likely think that she had broken her contract. She didn't know for certain, if whether or not they would see her as a liability, and try to have her killed, or if they'd simply hire someone else and let her be on her way.

Either way, Rasha didn't want to find out.

For now, she would try to console the Bosmer, as she couldn't risk him revealing her presence here. Though if it took too long then she'd have to abandon it. There might still be a chance that she could find her target here, but that all depended on this mer's coöperation.

Still, she would have to get past the guards. Judging by the lack of light outside the sash windows, it was still dark outside. She was not in any state right now to make an escape, and she knew it would have to be dark for her to go unseen. So for now, She had some time. She might as well use it to apologise and get on the mer's good side.

"Look, I'm really, really sorry."

"No," he began, "it is me who should say sorry. I should have been prepared, I should have disarmed you, and I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"I put a knife to your throat." she pointed out. "A lot of people don't react well to me placing a knife upon their throat."

The Bosmer looked shocked. "You've done this before?"

Rasha realised that she'd said too much. "Do you have any outdoor clothes I could use?" she asked quickly, changing the subject.

"You mean something better than you've got now?"

"Something that'll keep me warm."

"Well I don't have much, but there might be something I could let you use." He stood up and made his way over to a cupboard and opened it.

As he rummaged through it, Rasha sat herself down at the table, feeling like she was taking advantage of him. Truthfully though, she desperately needed something thicker than what she had. Especially if she was going to go to Winterhold, that lay in the even colder north.

"I have this ragged coat. It's not much, will it do?"

"It should be fine." It would have to do because she had no money. The guards had taken it all, they had taken everything. "Do you mind if I stay here for a day or two?" she asked him.

He passed her the coat. "I don't mind."

"Thank you."

"Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What is your name?"

She pondered for a moment. Did she tell him a fake one, her real one, or simply refuse to tell him at all? She guessed there was no harm in revealing it. "My name is Rasha."

"I'm Faldan." he greeted.

Rasha couldn't believe it. This _was _the Bosmer she was after. How was she supposed to kill the one that had just saved her life? She might be a bounty hunter, but her targets tended to be scourges on society, not those that went out of their way to save another's life.

"So, where are you headed?" Faldan asked her, seemingly unaware that his name was of significance to the Khajiit.

"I cannot say." Rasha responded, feeling her heart begin to race in her chest.

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that I was hoping you'd take me along. I hate it here and would like to get away from it."

"Sorry, but that is not possible."

"I see."

"Sorry."

"May I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

"Are you part of the Dark Brotherhood?"

She hissed loudly at him. Faldan's posture sank, as he crept away from her slowly in fear.

"No, I am not Dark Brotherhood." she hissed mortally offended. She caught herself, breathed deeply before she spoke again, far more calmly. "I am a bounty hunter, I hunt bad people."

Faldan nodded quickly, but he didn't approach the table out of fear.

The Ohmes-Raht found herself questioning herself. If she went ahead and killed this mer, then wouldn't that make him essentially correct? While she wouldn't actually be a part of the Dark Brotherhood, she'd just be as bad as them.

"I didn't mean to make you angry." the Bosmer whimpered.

"Sorry." she apologised to him again. "I did not mean to get angry." She gestured to the chair opposite. "Please sit down."

He slowly made his way to the table and quickly seated himself down, gripping his left hand in his right nervously. "Is the reason you don't want me along because you are hunting a bounty?"

"Yes."

"Is the person you're hunting bad?"

She didn't answer, she couldn't answer. When dealing with bandits and murderers it was easy, there was no grey area. They had committed heinous crimes and had to be dealt with.

She now found that she had made an error of judgement and was now trapped by it. Maybe this Taemwyn was bad, but from what she observed from Faldan, he certainly wasn't. Had he been in the past? Perhaps, but now he was certainly making up for any past misdeeds. At least in her eyes.

But did she have the right to conclude that? This Bosmer might have been a mass murderer, and he might deserve her blade? she simply didn't know.

The question was, would she be able to kill someone who might not be guilty? The Thalmor had refused to give her any information on what their crimes were, and that was very suspicious.

Perhaps the Bosmer and Altmer were part of disgraced families in the Dominion, and they were to be executed for transgressions that weren't their fault. She knew of such things happening, so it wasn't that far-fetched. Or perhaps they were traitors during the war, sending intelligence to the Imperial Legion. She pushed the thoughts out of her head. She was simply speculating without any evidence for any of it.

"Are you alright?" Faldan asked her.

"No." She replied truthfully. "I fear I'm making a mistake with my current assignment." She clenched her jaw. Before the words had even left her mouth, Rasha knew she had just revealed more than she had intended.

"If you think it's wrong, then maybe you shouldn't do it." Faldan said.

Rasha decided that she might as well continue on with the conversation. She had started and it was too late to change direction now. Not without drawing more suspicion anyway. "I cannot get out of it, I have a contract."

"Can't you tell them you're unable to complete it?"

"It's with the Thalmor."

The elf squirmed in his seat. "Ah, I see."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Faldan rested his hands on the table. "I think that if you're unsure, you shouldn't go through with it."

"I will take it under advisement."

She wouldn't do, she had a mission to complete, even if just the thought of it made her feel sick. Everyone had to do things they didn't want to do, this was her burden and she had to see it through. Didn't she?

Rasha looked down at the steel dagger in her belt. It would have been far better if she still had her glass dagger, and her custom, self-made armoured robe. But it appeared as though she'd just have to make do.

"You can take my bed if you want." Faldan said to her suddenly. "I'll throw some rags down on the floor and sleep there."

The Khajiit shook her head. "I'm okay for now. You should rest, I'll sleep some other time."

"You're still quite hurt." he told her. "You need the rest more than I do."

"I can care for myself." she said. "Besides I've already rested."

"Being unconscious after a nasty fall isn't what I'd call resting."

"Doesn't matter, I'm not feeling tired."

"You sure?"

"Yes, and take your bed for yourself. I'm not going to intrude more than necessary."

"Okay." he said simply as he rose up from the table. "It's kind of been a long day. I hope you don't mind if I go rest now do you?" he asked her.

"Go sleep if you want. I need time alone to think anyway."

"Okay." the Bosmer said, as he made his way over to the only bed, in the tiny house.

She watched him as he lay there, with his back to her. It would be so easy to slit his throat and be done with it. Doing so, however would draw attention. He probably had a job, or knew people who would notice his absence.

Besides, she wasn't Dark Brotherhood and this mer had offered her his home, at least for a little while.

"I should have become a merchant like my mother." she whispered to herself.

Rasha found that she felt rather conflicted, and uneasy. She hated the feeling, and wanted it to go away. The problem was that she felt that to make it go away meant she would either have to carry out the Thalmor's orders, or ignore them.

Her worse fear, was that she would find the same thing up in Winterhold, that both targets were decent people. She had a strong personal sense of honour, and with a stark realisation, she knew she wouldn't tarnish it for anyone. Even if it meant her very life.


	7. DaggerintheWindCh06

**Chapter VI**

Rontag wasn't happy. As he arrived at the outskirts of Winterhold, wearing his old worn steel armour and carrying his battleaxe in its sheath on his back, he noticed a hooded mage stood with his wife and Tam. Yesterday he had specifically told the elf that he didn't want any mage coming along. In fact it had been the inadvertent cause of the argument between him and his wife.

As of yet, none of them had noticed his approach, which was fine by him. He'd make them notice though, when he gave the elf a piece of his mind for even thinking of bringing that mage along.

He glowered at Tam before speaking, clear disdain evident in his voice. "I thought I said we weren't bringing that damned mage along!?"

They all looked over at him as he came to a halt a few paces from them. The mage revealed his Suthay-Khajiit features from under his college hood as he faced the Nord man. Valerie, who adorned her Imperial armour, bow and sword scowled at him, while Tam who wore the same old steel-plate armour she never seemed to be without, folded her arms with a frown.

"I asked him along." Valerie told her husband. "Not Tam."

"Oh, okay." he accepted. He decided not to pursue the matter any more, lest he upset his wife yet again. The couple hadn't talked much since Valerie had stormed out yesterday morning, and Rontag dare not get into another argument with her.

The mage spoke up. "If there is a problem regarding Khajiit coming along, then Jo'Agro will return to college."

Valerie scowled at her husband once more. She then turned to the Khajiit who had referred to himself as Jo'Agro. "No, we'll need your assistance. Unlike my husband, I know when we need help, and not to be a total bigot about it."

Rontag shrank into his armour. He knew full well that his big mouth had probably just placed him further at odds with his wife, something that he had wanted desperately to avoid. But his big mouth and quick accusations had landed him in further trouble, a theme that seemed common these days. He wondered if he should just keep his mouth firmly shut and just not speak any more.

Tam broke the silence that had ensued. "It's a long trip to Stillborn cave and once we're there, we have to look the area for where the sabre cats are hiding. We should set off now and stop wasting time."

There was a silent agreement between the them, as they turned about and left the city. The four of them headed southwards, up the shallow incline of the snow covered road that lay at the base of the high cliffs to their right.

The cliffs themselves were part of a much larger mountain range, that according to rumour, had a vast shrine of Azura built somewhere among its many peaks. To their left was a barren snow-covered tundra that sloped downwards away from them, seemingly for an eternity.

At this moment in time, the sun was peaking itself over the horizon to the east. The clouds were scarce except on the horizon to the south, where they seemed to have accumulated densely. It was probably snowing at their destination, but with a little luck it would be clear by the time they reached the cave. Which would be in around four to five hours.

Rontag wondered if it was enough time to patch things up with his wife, but quickly decided against it. He wasn't generally good with words, especially in this kind of situation. With a silent sigh, he made the decision to leave it till they returned home.

* * *

Rasha had decided to not only stay in Faldan's place for another day or so till she recovered, she had also decided that she wouldn't be the one to end his life. Whatever she was, she wasn't a cold-blooded murderer. She wouldn't kill someone she suspected was innocent, especially for the Thalmor.

The target up in Winterhold was a different matter however. She was the main target, and so far there was no information on her apart from her name, her race, her height and where she was. Taemwyn Orthar, or Tam is what she was called. She was an Altmer, and was close to being, if not eight feet tall.

The Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit hadn't told Faldan that the Thalmor knew where he was, or that she had been contracted to kill him. Somehow though, she knew that he knew. She could feel it when he spoke to her, when he looked at her. Something played heavily on his mind.

Perhaps it was that he knew she was supposed to kill him, or maybe it was something else. Whatever the reason for his internal plight, at the end of the day it wasn't really her business. She had decided not to kill him, though she knew warning him would be taking things too far. Her contractors would never allow her to get away with that, regardless of whether she took care of the target up in Winterhold or not.

The front door opened, allowing the hot air to rush out. Faldan stepped in, quickly closing it behind him.

He looked over at where she sat at the table. "You're still here." he said with a small smile.

"Yes." she replied stoically.

The Bosmer had been out working all morning. Where it was he worked, she had no idea, he hadn't told her. Wherever it was it required him to get up at around four in the morning, and it now appeared that he got off work at around noon. However that didn't really fit with yesterday's timetable, as when he had found her unconscious, she had been under the impression that he was returning home from work, and that had been late in the evening. Perhaps wherever he worked required him to be flexible with work hours.

"How was your day?" she asked him.

"Erm." he began. "It went well I suppose."

"That's nice." she said, not really caring if he actually did have a good day or not.

There was a brief moment of silence between them, before Faldan reached into his large satchel, that he wore around his waist. "I have something for you." he said.

Rasha's eyes went wide as he placed her glass dagger onto the table top.

The Ohmes-Raht looked up at him. "How?" she asked in shock.

"I know of a Nord who's sympathetic to the plight of non-Nords here in the city. He helped get it back."

Rasha took the blade in her hand and inspected it. It was clear that it hadn't been taken care of since it had left her hand. Imperfections had cropped up along the blade edge. But it didn't matter, she had her dagger back.

"Thank you." she said happily with a wide smile.

Now she knew she couldn't kill him. Not only had he saved her life, he had also brought her back her most prized possession. It was a pity that he hadn't managed to get her armoured robe back.

As if reading her mind, Faldan told her what became of the robe. "I'm sorry I couldn't get your armour back. The guards threw them in a fire."

"That's a shame. I hand crafted the robe and attached the armour pieces myself." she told him. "I guess that I'll just have to remake them someday."

Faldan rose up from where he sat and moved over to the fire. He lifted the lid off a pot of cabbage stew that constantly simmered by the fire, before picking up a wooden spoon that lay on the mantelpiece. Slowly he began to stir the watery stew.

He looked over at Rasha. "I guess you'll want some of this?"

"Yes, thank you." she replied.

While the Khajiit were a feline race, they only leaned towards meats. Unlike other feline species, they could consume vegetable matter with little ill effects. Still, she would have preferred something a little more meaty than cabbage. Though considering the measly amount of cabbage that was in the stew, it was more of a drink than a meal of any kind.

Soon Faldan had scooped some of the liquid into clay bowls for himself and Rasha. He placed them on the table and they both began to consume it with their spoons in silence.

The silence didn't last long however, as Faldan began to ask questions much to the Khajiit's annoyance.

"So, when are you heading off?"

"Tomorrow, maybe." she replied after swallowing her mouthful of stew.

"That's very soon."

"I cannot stay much longer."

"Who is your target?"

"Sorry, but I cannot tell you."

"Am I the target?" he asked her, as a slight quiver crossed his lips.

Rasha stopped eating her food, and placed her spoon down carefully on the old wooden tabletop. She webbed her lithe, long thick clawed hands together, looking at him intently. It seemed he already knew he was a target, just as she had suspected. But what did she tell him? what _could _she tell him.

There was a good chance that the Thalmor had an ear in Windhelm. Whoever it was, might not only know that she was there in the city, but that she was currently in Faldan's house. If that was the case, then it really was too late, unless she killed him right here right now.

It was time to make a decision. She just had no clue as to what that decision was.

"I signed a contract with the Thalmor." she began, thinking carefully as to how much she should actually reveal. "When I heard they had a bounty, I was curious. I was also starting to feel the pinch of a certain ailment known as lack of gold. I decided that it was probably above-board. I mean the Thalmor are in an Imperial province, they'd have to behave right?"

Faldan didn't respond to her rhetorical question. He just gripped his spoon tightly till his knuckles went white. His stare on her, unrelenting.

"But I was given no information on my targets." she continued calmly, keeping each word measured. "I daren't refuse the job. Not with the way I was being spoken to. No one knew I was there, so they could easily have just killed me so I didn't become a problem in the future."

"They still will." Faldan said. "If you do everything they say, they'll just try and 'remove' you so you don't become a liability in the future."

Rasha went silent, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't, she followed it up. "What do you mean?" she asked him.

"The Thalmor had me under their grasp. They planted me in a small mining settlement in northern Cyrodiil. I was to keep an eye on someone for them. Soon they set a date, telling me that they wanted her in the mine so she couldn't escape. I left that morning and told them." he stopped as a tear rolled down his cheek.

"What happened?"

"They killed them all! But somehow she got away. They then told me to go to the Imperial City and inform them that the village had been wiped out. But not by them, by the person they were after."

"And what happened to you?"

"Well once everything was done, and the poor woman had been blamed for the death of everyone in the village, the Thalmor saw me as a liability and tried to kill me."

"But you escaped?"

"Yes."

"And you came here?"

"I was going to continue on into Morrowind, but lost my nerve."

Rasha pondered on what he had just told her for a moment, before a hunch entered her mind. Could it be that the two targets were connected somehow?

"Who was their target?" she asked.

"An Altmer, called Tam."

"Taemwyn?" It appeared that her hunch was in fact correct.

"I only knew her as Tam."

"Around eight feet tall, known to wear steel-plate armour?"

"She wore regular clothes while I knew her, but I was told she had some fancy armour in her house."

Things were falling into place. The two targets were in fact connected. As to why they had brought her in, an outsider into the whole mess confused her. perhaps they didn't want anything to connect them with the killings when they were discovered, and she was a scape goat. She knew that Faldan was probably correct. The moment she went to collect on the bounty, they would have probably killed her, removing a loose end in their eyes.

Rasha looked straight at him. "Do you know why they were after her?"

He shook his head, meaning he didn't know. Rasha thought for a moment. What could it all mean, and why did they want the Altmer dead?

"You didn't answer my question before." Faldan said to the Khajiit. "Are you here to kill me?"

The Ohmes-Raht hesitated before answering. "I was contracted to kill you, yes." she said quickly.

He slouched in his chair with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"You're dangerous to them." Rasha explained. "You know a secret that they don't want you to know."

He lowered his hands. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked, fear clear in his voice.

"No." she replied almost too quickly. It was time to make a stand. She wouldn't sell out her integrity for any amount of gold. Whether it be for the Imperials, the Thalmor, or the Divines themselves.

"So what happens to me?" he asked.

"I'll tell you." she began, a plan forming almost spontaneously in her mind. "We're _both_ going to Winterhold."

* * *

It was early in the afternoon when the four from Winterhold reached Stillborn Cave. The snow had almost completely stopped, with only a few flakes now fluttering down from the white sky.

As they approached, they noticed a lone white snowy sabre cat sat resting outside. A quick plan had Valerie and Jo'Agro keep back, while Tam and Rontag got in close, circling the animal so they could cover both sides if it tried to run.

It didn't take long for the sabre cat to take notice of their presence. The animal kept its eye on Tam, the biggest of the two, only briefly glancing at Rontag, seeing him as a far lesser threat.

Once they were all in position, Valerie took an arrow out of her quiver and took aim. With the release of the bowstring, the arrow flew through the cold air, striking the sabre cat just below it's right eye.

The large white cat instantly reacted, jumping to it's feet, letting out a loud roar that echoed through the air. It began to run towards Valerie and the Khajiit mage, its mouth agape ready to strike. Jo'Agro formed lightning in his pawed hands, while Valerie prepared another arrow.

The large white cat halted as it sensed a new presence. It turned to face Tam, as she ran at it from the right. It lashed its paw out at her, as a bolt of magical lightning struck it in the side of the head. It roared, turning to face the Khajiit who was the origin of the magical blast. In the confusion of multiple attacking targets, the sabre cat had not noticed Rontag run up behind it. With a swing of his battleaxe, he brought it down on the creature's back, severing its spine.

A howl echoed loudly through the air, as the white cat's now useless hind legs crumpled beneath its own weight. The snowy sabre didn't suffer long as Tam brought her warhammer down on its head, crushing the skull with an instant kill.

Rontag turned to Valerie and Jo'Agro. "Now that wasn't too difficult, was it?"

Tam nodded towards the cave. "Yeah, but now we've got to check in there."

"Nah." Rontag replied. "Sabre cats don't usually go in caves."

"Could have young." Valerie suggested, as both she and the mage walked over to where the other two were standing. "It's not unheard of for snowy sabre cats to take refuge in caves when they have young."

Rontag pulled a face of disgust. "I hate caves." he said to no one in particular. "Not enough room to swing my axe."

Tam snickered. "You think _you _hate caves. Last time I was in one, I got trapped. That and I'm eight feet tall. Caves tend to have really small low bits I bang my head on."

The robed Khajiit moved over to the cave entrance, pulling his hood down. His ears twitched as listened intently. "This one hears moving water inside."

"Then there's your answer." Valerie said. "Water that isn't frozen is hard to come by this time of year. The cats probably liked a fresh spring better than licking really cold snow."

Rontag turned to look at the cave. "So we're checking it out I take it?"

"Yes we are." Valerie informed him before turning to Jo'Agro. "Are you alright with caves?"

"Khajiit is well with caves, however not so good with close ranged spells. Better at distance and with Restoration school than Destruction."

Rontag smiled. "Why didn't you tell me you were a healer. I have respect for them."

"This one did not give Khajiit the chance."

"No more talk." Valerie told them. "Let's get into that cave and finish this."

Jo'Agro who had been carrying some small unlit torches on his belt, gave all three out. One to Tam, one to Valerie and the last one to Rontag. With a flame spell he lit them all, ready for the darkness ahead.

"Don't you need one?" Rontag asked.

Tam snickered, shaking her head at Rontag's racial ignorance.

"Khajiit can see in low light." Jo'Agro explained.

"Oh." he said, glaring at Tam who laughed at him once more.

"If we're finished with joking around, then we should head inside." Valerie said as she headed onwards, leading them all into the cave.

Inside they found it to be far more spacious, and not nearly as dark as they had expected. The white frozen walls and ceiling reflected light around, giving the place an eerie glow. Ahead of them at the bottom of a slight decline, water ran at an angle to the entrance, bursting forth from a gap in the wall, flowing further into the cave.

They followed it, soon coming across a half eaten wolf-sized giant frostbite spider. Just ahead, the small indoor river flowed under the cave wall where they couldn't follow it any further.

With no other option, they headed right through a tall narrow ice walled tunnel that almost appeared as though it had been carved into it.

After following it down, they entered a larger, darker cavern. They looked around cautiously before coming across a very large, and quite dead snowy sabre cat.

Rontag shone the torch at it. "What do you think killed it?" he asked the others. "Looks like it's been burned."

Jo'Agro took a closer look at it. "Sabre cat burned with magic."

"You sure?" Tam asked. "Do you think there's someone down here?"

They all spun around as a strange noise echoed through the narrow tunnel to their left.

"What was that?" Tam asked.

Valerie shrugged. "No idea whatsoever."

"Should we check it out?" Rontag asked the rest of them.

"I think we should." Tam said.

Valerie agreed. "We were sent out here to take care of the sabre cats, so that's what we'll do."

"That didn't sound like any sabre cat I've ever heard." Rontag said.

"We should still check it out." Valerie told him, as she began to head up a frosted stone incline.

The rest followed, moving through another narrow passageway that twisted to the right.

After a short steep ice ramp downwards, that Tam almost slipped on, they entered a larger rock tunnel with a smaller ice one to the right. Another strange sound echoed off the cave walls from somewhere ahead.

The four of them made their way down the rocky corridor, halting as a small strange hut came into view on the far right, by the entrance of another cave that descended downwards. The sound of water echoed off the walls as they cautiously approached the small makeshift structure.

Tam placed her hand on the ribbed wall of the hut, snatching her hand back at the strange touch. Valerie peered inside through the strange gated-door that appeared to be made out of the legs of some kind of giant insect.

"Empty." she whispered to them.

Tam placed her hand back on the surface. "What is this made out of?" she asked them.

Before anyone could answer, an arrow struck Rontag in the back of his left arm, below his armour's pauldron in the exposed flesh. He cried out in pain, quickly pulling the badly fashioned arrow out of his flesh.

They all turned around, ready to fight. Instead of seeing other men or mer, they found two small stooping goblin-like creatures. While only one of them had a bow, they both wore rudimentary armour which consisted of a spiked helmet with eight green bug eyes on it, strange dark gauntlets over their wrists and a strange armoured waist greaves. It all appeared to be made out of the shells and parts of some kind of giant insect.

"What are they?" Valerie asked.

There was no time for anyone to respond. The creature with the bow pulled out another arrow and readied it. Jo'Agro fired a fireball at it, while Rontag after throwing the arrow to the ground, moved in with Tam with their weapons drawn.

The large Nord man, swung his battleaxe at the one that had shot him with the arrow, but it managed to deflect most of the blow by raising its arm, pushing against his. Tam on the other hand caved the other's head in with a single strike.

Rontag took another swing, embedding his axe into the creature's chest. If fell to the icy ground with a shriek, writhing about as it clutched its mortal wound. It soon died in a pool of its own blood.

"What are they?" Valerie asked, once the commotion had died down. "Some kind of goblin?"

Tam knelt on one knee and removed the creature's helmet. They all gasped when they saw the thick wrinkled skin over where it's eyes should have been.

"Where's its eyes." Rontag asked, wiping the sweat that formed on his brow.

"Are you okay?" Valerie asked him.

Rontag shook his head. "I'm not sure." He staggered before collapsing onto the frozen dirt.

"Rontag!" Valerie screamed out.

"The arrow must have been poisoned." Tam uttered, a hint of panic in her voice.

"This one needs to be taken to the college quickly." Jo'Agro told them. "Or he may die." the Khajiit rushed over and picked up the poisoned arrow that Rontag had discarded. "This is needed."

Valerie tried to pick up her husband, but he was far too heavy for her to lift. With a single scoop, Tam moved in and picked him up in her arms.

"I'll carry him." the Altmer said.

Soon they had left the cave, and were moving quickly towards Winterhold.

Valerie hoped they would get there in time. His life was fading, and she felt as though she were to blame.


	8. DaggerintheWindCh07

**Chapter VII**

Valerie sat there on an old wooden chair in a small room just off a larger tall circular room inside the Hall of Countenance within the College of Winterhold. She was by her husband's side as he lay there on the bed, his breath laboured, uneven.

The room was washed an eerie blue colour by the pillar of blue magic that flowed upwards, seemingly against nature, to the ceiling from a circular well in the middle of the two storey rotunda.

A female Bosmer mage by the name of Arellin stood over him, keeping him alive with spells. Meanwhile Jo'Agro was working upstairs with Tam, trying to make a cure for the poison.

As she stared at Rontag's unconscious form, she feared a cure might not be found before either the healer gave up, or before he died.

In all that had happened, there was one very small consolation. She had discovered that Tam was a true friend. She had carried Rontag's body all the way from the cave to the college, all without slowing her pace or uttering a single complaint. Only when he had been placed upon the bed where he currently lay, had Tam collapsed in sheer exhaustion.

They had then carefully removed his armour, placing it down at the far side of the room, leaving him laying there in a brown tunic and leggings.

Things could have easily turned out much differently though. When they had first arrived at the bridge that lead to the college, the man who stood guarding the bridge had been resistant to the idea of allowing them to bring Rontag there for treatment. Even Jo'Agro, who was a resident there had struggled to convince him. But finally with much pleading, he had managed to do so.

Now it was well over a dozen or so hours later. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon and was now back on the rise again, the windows glowing with the light of dawn.

Once this was all over whichever way it went, she knew that Tam had become an irreplaceable friend.

The Nord looked around at the sound of footsteps on the cold stone floor. Walking up to them, with a vial in his hand was Jo'Agro with Tam beside him.

"Is that the cure?" Valerie asked them.

"We believe so." Tam responded with sweat on her brow, as they both came to rest beside the bed.

"You _believe_!?" Valerie said frantically. "It better be."

"Don't worry, It appears the poison is similar to something I've seen before." Tam said.

The Khajiit mage looked Rontag up and down. "This one needs to be placed upright, as if sat."

Both Valerie and Tam carefully rose Rontag's torso into an upright position, his wife making sure she cradled his head to stop it from rolling. The healer, Arellin moved away, but remained within reach if any problems arose.

"Open Nord's mouth." Jo'Agro instructed. "The potion must be ingested."

Valerie became alarmed. "Won't that drown him?" she asked.

Tam shook her head. "No, we'll be giving him very small amounts over the next few minutes."

The Nord made sure her husband's mouth was fully open and that his throat was clear. Satisfied that it was she nodded at Tam before turning her attention to the Khajiit.

"Is there a problem with this one?" Jo'Agro asked Valerie.

"Sorry, but do you mind if Tam gives him the potion?"

"Khajiit does not mind." he said.

Tam let Rontag go carefully, before she took the vial from Jo'Agro, leaving Valerie to hold her husband up by herself. She carefully tilted his chin up with her free hand so that the liquid had a more direct route into his stomach. The Altmer poured a tiny amount of the potion into Rontag's mouth. She waited for a moment before pouring a bit more in.

Valerie felt her heart begin to thump hard in her chest. Either this would work or it wouldn't, and she dare not consider what would happen if it didn't. Her husband had only come back into her life only a few months ago and it seemed they had spent most of that time arguing and getting into fights.

As she watched Tam pour yet more of the potion into his mouth, she felt a strong bond of friendship between them. It was strange, when she had first met the Altmer, she had been so cruel to he. She had seen Tam as the one responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life, even though it couldn't possibly have been all her fault.

Strangely enough though, if Tam hadn't gone to Whiterun where Valerie had lived, she knew that Burag, the Orc that hunted Magoza would have most likely killed her when he had arrived there looking for blood.

As it was, the Thalmor had come looking for Tam and she had seen them and wanted blood for everything they had put her through. She had blamed the Altmer for ruining her life. In truth, her life had long since been ruined.

Now she knew she could call her a true friend.

Valerie's heart began to beat faster as Rontag's breath became more regular. She found herself smiling. Perhaps things would be alright after all.

She saw the Khajiit step back and whisper something to the healer Arellin. She was glad they had brought him along. Without his help there was the real possibility that Rontag would have died without hope. At least now they had that.

"The potion is working well, yes." Jo'Agro said with what appeared to be a smile.

"Yes." Valerie agreed with an even wider smile.

The Khajiit grinned showing off his long sharp teeth. "Jo'Agro is happy that potion is working well."

"So am I." Valerie agreed. "And thank you." she said before looking at Tam. "Both of you." she then looked over at Arellin. "And I thank you as well."

"That's all of it." Tam said lowering Rontag's chin back down. "The bottle's empty."

"Do we need more?" Valerie asked her.

Jo'Agro walked over the bed. "More will not be needed."

"He's still not awake." Valerie said, feeling fear begin to rise again.

"We only just gave him it." Tam pointed out. "It could be hours before he awakens, even longer for him to regain his strength. He might be laid upon that bed for some time to come."

"Okay." the Nord accepted reluctantly. "I'll wait till his eyes open."

Tam motioned for Valerie to rest Rontag back down on the bed. She did so slowly, placing his head carefully down onto the pillow.

The Nord looked across at the floor by the wall where Rontag's armour lay. When they had placed him upon the bed, they had carefully removed it as to allow him more room to breathe. She was glad they had, as holding him up while he was wearing such heavy armour, would have caused more pain and fatigue. She felt she'd already had enough pain.

"You should go get some rest." Tam said to her.

Valerie looked over at where she stood. "No I don't need any rest."

"You look exhausted." the Altmer said. "Get home and out of that old armour."

The Nord shook her head. "No, I want to be here when he wakes up."

Tam decided to accept Valerie's wishes and not push the matter any further. "I'll be here for you then." she told her friend. "If you need anything, I'll try and fetch it for you. Or at least try to get someone to fetch it."

"All I want now is for my husband to get well." Valerie said solemnly. "All I want is to see him well." she repeated.

* * *

The sun peeked out from behind a white fluffy cloud, while the Karo's worked the fields and Magoza worked at the forge.

As with her new job role, Darovin had asked Magoza if she could start making some metal hinges. Several around the house and farm were starting to wear pretty badly and he wanted fifteen for the house, and three larger ones for the gate to the guar pen.

She had actually helped her mother make hinges before to replace ones at the stronghold. She knew the basics of how to make them, but feared that whatever she made might be worse than the worn down ones they already had.

All the Orsimer could do was to try her best, and hope that she didn't mess it all up somehow.

She looked across at the fields, where she saw Darovin pulling up some dead crops. It was a common sight, and she felt bad about it. They always put their all into it, for such little in return.

Darovin stood up and wiped his brow. He looked across at her and waved. She returned the gesture, before continuing on with her work. She had to keep focused if she wanted these hinges to turn out half decent.

Her work was interrupted by footsteps behind her on the gravel. She looked around to see Brendarr walking up to her, before turning her attention back to the anvil. The Orsimer expected some derisive comments from the Dunmer. It wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"How's it going?" he asked her.

Magoza looked over at him as he leant against the smelter. "Okay, I guess." she said as she turned back to her work.

"What're you making?"

"Hinges."

"Don't look much like hinges." he replied.

She forced herself to remain polite. "That's because they aren't finished yet. I'm shaping the individual pieces."

"Do you like me?" he asked her all of a sudden.

She turned to him, her brow raised in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You don't say much to me."

Magoza thought for a moment. "I guess we don't have much to talk about." she finally replied.

"I suppose not."

Magoza shrugged. "Listen, I don't have anything against you, you seem like a nice person."

Brendar pointed at her. "I've got my eye on you." he said, before turning and leaving.

Magoza watched him walk away in silence. She found him strange. For some reason he had taken a disliking to her, and she didn't know why. She would have to talk to Darovin or Llandri about it.

She returned her attention back to the hinges, and continued to work the metal.

Soon the call for dinner was made, and they all went in to eat the same old broth they had eaten all winter.

* * *

Rasha found herself stood on a wooden beam above Faldan's front door while two of the city guards stood there, talking to the rather worried looking Bosmer.

They wanted to search his home for some reason, and she knew if they found her there, then they'd both be in trouble. Serious trouble.

Unfortunately the Bosmer had no choice but to let them in. As the two city guards stepped forward, Rasha silently dropped down behind them and slipped out the door.

She would have to hide somewhere while they searched the house. Where exactly that would be, she had a fairly good idea. It was just getting there.

Rasha headed into a particularly narrow alleyway. She took off her shoes and protracted her claws in both her hands and feet. With a deep inhalation, the Ohmes-Raht jumped up at the side of a house wall. She kicked off it, grabbing a hold of a gap in the mortar, pulling herself up. She then dug her toe claws into whatever gap she could find, pushing herself even further up.

After finding every small hand and foot hole, every possible imperfection she could get her claws into, she finally pulled herself onto the angled-tiled roof and carefully crawled up along the shallow, snow covered surface to the apex, staring out at the snow covered roofs of the city.

She remembered back to when she was a cub in the city of Anvil in Cyrodiil. Of how her mother, a Cathay-Raht, had berated her for not only her ability, but willingness to climb everything in sight.

Many times when she and her mother had argued, she had taken refuge on the roof of their house. Her mother couldn't follow because she was a much larger breed, and climbing unless it involved strong ladders was almost an impossibility.

The Ohmes-Raht found herself smiling at the memory. Her mother was dead now, killed during the early months of the Great War between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Mede Empire.

Everywhere she went it was a common theme. A lot of children would be brought up this generation without one of their parents, or both. The war had been bloody and had taken many good souls before their time.

Rasha flattened herself against the roof, and slid behind the apex as she saw two Windhelm guards leave a house across the way. It appeared as though they were not only searching Faldan's home, but others as well.

She peeked over the apex of the roof to see them hammering their fists against another door. Moments later it opened, and a rather fearful female Dunmer allowed them in.

Looking around, she was satisfied that the building behind was close enough so that she could not be seen from ground level. There also didn't appear to be any facing windows which was good.

A flake of snow caught her eye as it fluttered past her face. Looking up, she saw the thick white clouds overhead, much to her annoyance. The last thing she needed right now was for more snow to be added to the already white roof, especially when it was angled such as this one. Unlike the stairs she fell down, she had no illusions that she would survive falling off onto hard stone below.

Another flake of snow fell from the sky causing Rasha to clench her jaw. She hated Skyrim. Since she had arrived here, it seemed that it was determined to do nothing but to try and kill her.

* * *

Faldan watched as the guards pulled over shelves, threw his things on the floor, and generally smashed what little he owned.

They hadn't told him what they had been looking for, and he was certainly glad that Rasha had been able to escape unnoticed. He dreaded to think what would have happened if they had caught her here.

He watched in horror as one of the guards moved over towards the fireplace, kicking the frame that his cauldron stood on hard with his boot, causing it to topple over. It fell into the fireplace with a loud crash, the hot liquid snuffing not only out the flames, but spilling out across the floor into the pile of firewood he had laying about.

The guard turned to him. "We're done here." he said from behind his helmet. They then both left the small house, leaving it in a complete mess.

The Bosmer looked around. All his clay bowls had been smashed against the hard stone floor, and his only cabinet lay on its side splintered and beyond repair. The worst of it was the stew and the fire. He didn't have the funds to replace the food that had just gone to waste, nor the wet firewood.

For now he'd have to leave it. The large cauldron was probably still far too hot to touch, and the small cloth rag was not enough to shield him from the prolonged heat if he attempted to lift it.

He rubbed his eyes before walking over to his small table, lifting it back up on its legs. He then picked up a chair and sat on it.

He would leave it a good half hour before he took the large iron cauldron from the fireplace. He'd then see if he could dry off the wood. If not, then he would be in for a very cold night.

He rested his head in his hands and began to weep. He'd had no idea how good life in Minestead had been until it had been snatched away. He had been so fixated on returning to his place of birth that he had thrown away his own life.

Sure he had been placed there by the Thalmor, but it had started to feel somewhat like a home.

He would never see the young Breton woman, Emily's smile ever again. He would never hear the stories of the Colovian man Aulus, when he served on the Legion. He would never hear any of it ever again, he would never see any of them ever again and it was his fault.

"They really messed this place up didn't they?" he heard a familiar voice say from behind him.

He turned around to see Rasha standing in the doorway. "They might see you if you stand there." he said with a sniffle.

The Khajiit quickly closed the door behind her before walking over to the table. She picked up one of the fallen chairs and sat opposite him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No." he replied, a tear running down his cheek. "I'm not."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No." he said wiping his face. "But I am ready to leave this place."

"Well pack your things, because I plan on leaving the city sometime before dawn tomorrow."

Faldan looked around. "There's nothing to pack."

He had nothing here that he held any sentimental value to. He had left all of that behind in Minestead. All he wanted now was to begin anew. To have no worries about the Thalmor, to have no worries about his house being smashed up.

All it was that he truly wanted was to be happy. But it was too late for that. Far too late.

* * *

Tam stepped into their small house in Winterhold. She had come here to check up on the place, and make sure that the fire hadn't gone out, or that nobody had taken it upon themselves to rob the place while they had been staying at the college.

Unfortunately the fire had gone out, though there was still a distinct glow indicating that it hadn't been out long.

She could see steam coming off the broth, and after a quick sniff she found that it still smelt good, meaning they wouldn't have to throw it out.

It only took a moment to get the fire going again, adding more firewood and stoking it till the flames started lapping up the chimney.

Happy with that, she checked the house to see if anyone had indeed saw fit to take anything. Satisfied she made her way over to the breadbox and got herself some bread and a bowl.

She served herself some of the broth before sitting down at the table, her mind wandering back over the passed few months here in Winterhold.

It had been mostly serene up until a few days ago, when Valerie and Rontag had started falling out. While the two had argued before, they had been nothing compared to the last two they'd had.

She put the thoughts out of her mind as she picked up the bowl, and drunk the liquid out of it. Tam knew if Valerie were here she would berate her for not using a spoon, but right now she didn't care.

With the bowl empty, she took it outside and washed it off in the snow, before taking it back inside and placing it over the mantelpiece to dry.

The Altmer took a good long look around the house before leaving, locking the door behind her.

She headed back up towards the mages college where she would spend the night in the event that any problems regarding Rontag arose.


	9. DaggerintheWindCh08

**Chapter VIII**

Rasha pulled the hood tightly over her head, made sure her tail was hidden in her trousers and that her trousers were tucked firmly into her shoes. She then fastened up her coat to the very top, all to reduce the amount of heat that would start to escape once she was outside.

The Ohmes-Raht looked over at Faldan as he fastened up his own coat. It wasn't as good as the one he had given her, but it would definitely be better than nothing.

"Are you ready?" she asked him, as he clumsily put on some cheap fur gloves.

He looked up at her, his dark brown eyes conveying fatigue. "Erm, yes. I think." the Bosmer responded shortly before yawning loudly.

It was the early hours of the morning, sometime before dawn. Early enough for there to be few people, but late enough not to draw suspicion on what they were doing. Faldan had slept little that night, and it showed on his face, and in his posture.

"You're not going to fall asleep are you?" she asked half-joking. "I'm not going to carry you."

"I'm fine."

"Well you're going to need to be alert."

"I'll try. It is late y'know."

"Have the map?" she asked him.

"Yes." he said, pulling it out of his pocket.

"Want me to look after it?" she asked him.

He quickly shoved it back into his pocket. "No, I can keep it safe, no worries."

Rasha moved over to the door and gripped the handle. "Take one last look." she told him. "Because chances are you'll never see this place again."

"I've only been here about a month." he told her. "I have no attachment to this place whatsoever. Now let's just go."

She pushed the door open, the cold air rushed in as they both stepped out into the darkness beyond. Faldan closed the door before they both began to make their way down the cold, frozen street. The only source of light were the dull glow of torches that rested in sconce's by the front doors of the small impoverished Dunmer homes.

They climbed some steep steps before walking down a thin alley that lay at the end of the street on the right. After walking up another set of steps they both passed the large gate that lead to the docks and went under an arch into a sheltered alley, heading up a second set of stairs.

Rasha stared up at the strange glowing ribbons of light in the sky. She had never seen anything like it. They were absolutely beautiful.

"I noticed them too." Faldan whispered. "No idea what they are supposed to be."

The Ohmes-Raht forced herself to look away after a minute or so, and continued on, followed closely by the Bosmer.

Soon they were at the large tall city gates, which were illuminated by two fires at either side. While there wasn't any guards on this side of the gates, she had no illusions that when they opened them, that they wouldn't bump into some at the other side.

Rasha gripped the hat she had been given and pulled it tight around her head, trying to cover up as much of her fur covered face as possible.

They both moved over to the gates and pushed one open just enough for them both to get through. Faldan went first, closely followed by Rasha. The large gate swung shut behind them with a hefty clang, as a Windhelm guard stood at the base of some wide shallow steps turned to them.

"Where are you two going at this time of night?" he asked, his voice muffled from behind his helmet.

Faldan glanced at Rasha before speaking. "Erm, we're leaving."

"What do you mean by 'leaving' exactly?"

When the Bosmer failed to respond, Rasha decided to intervene. "We've decided to leave Windhelm and find somewhere else to live." She hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself, lest the guard realise that she was the one that had escaped from the dungeon a few days ago.

"Good riddance." the guard uttered. "I hope more elves follow your lead and leave too."

They both headed onwards across the bridge, under a thick arch and between two stone constructions, continuing along past tall stone walls and under another archway. Rasha sighed a breath of relief as they passed the stables, heading down the incline onto the main road.

"This is it." Faldan said aloud. "We're actually doing this."

"Yes." she replied as they both began walking westward. "Yes we are."

"What will we do when we get there?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure." she revealed.

"Oh?"

She looked across at him as they set foot on a stone bridge near where two rivers joined. "I'll figure it out."

As they came to the apex of the bridge, Rasha stopped and leant on the waist-high stone wall, looking north above the tall mountain that lay to the north-east of the city, at the ribbons of light that danced overhead.

"Rather beautiful." she said softly. "Never before have I seen anything quite like this."

She looked over at Faldan as he stood beside her. "I've seen them before, just not from beyond the city walls."

"Mind if we stay here for a little while?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Sure, I don't mind."

The Ohmes-Raht stared back up at the glowing red lights in the sky. They looked almost aetherial in nature as if it was the breath of the Divines, gently blowing against the sky, its magic dancing slowly amongst the clouds.

Rasha simply stood and stared in awe. The beauty of these northern lights took her breath away.

Faldan leant against the wall beside her. "Strangely peaceful." he said to her. "The city is just across the river, but it's so quiet, unlike during the day."

"Looks old." Rasha added, turning her attention to the city.

"Supposed to have been built a the end of the Merethic era, from what I've been told."

"I'm not up to speed with ancient lore." she revealed to him. "When was the Merethic era?"

"Thousands of years ago. I think it marked the end of the Falmer rule in Skyrim."

Rasha turned her attention back to the lights in the sky "This land may be freezing cold, but the nights certainly are beautiful."

"I guess."

They both stood there for a few moments more before continuing on westward, into the darkness of the early morning hours.

* * *

"Just keep it there. Yes, right there." Magoza said as she helped guide the front door into position.

Darovin and Llandri were stood in the doorway holding up the large door while Magoza, who was on a ladder in the interior of the house, guided them in.

It was just after mid-morning and they had already attached one side of the hinges to the door and the other to the alcove. She had designed the hinges so that one simply lowered a pin through rungs to join the two halves together, making a functional door. To then remove the door one simply lifted all the pins out.

Of course they were designed so it could only be done while the door was open as to stop would-be thieves from breaking in by removing the door.

Magoza gripped the edge of the door, guiding it into position. "Okay, lower it."

The Dunmer couple lowered the door down into place, while Magoza dropped the pin into the upper hinge joining them. She then stepped down the ladders and popped a pin into the centre hinge, then one into the bottom. With an okay from the Orsimer, the two Dunmer let it go, stepping back to admire the handiwork.

"That was a lot easier than how I've done it in the past." Darovin said. "Getting folk to hold up the door while I bash nails into it, when the hinges were already attached to the wall."

"Well it's just something I learned from my mother." Magoza told them. "Will we be putting up the rest today?"

Llandri smiled. "Maybe one more before dinner."

They all looked around as Brendarr came walking up to the house.

"Looks the same." he said to them.

Llandri shook her head. "That's because it _is _the same. Just the hinges have been replaced."

Darovin gripped the door, closed it and then opened it again. "Glides really smoothly. Like a foot sliding on some freshly spilt scrib jelly."

"Doesn't look very good to me." Brendarr told them. "Not as good as it was."

Llandri let out a stifled laugh. "Are you joking? The old hinges were on their way out. If you breathed too hard near them, there was a chance they might've fallen off."

"Whatever." he replied before casting a death stare at Magoza. "I'll be in the guar pen." He turned and left.

Llandri's mouth gaped open. "What was all that about?"

"Brendarr doesn't like Magoza very much." Darovin explained.

"He doesn't?"

"Haven't you noticed?"

She looked over at Magoza. "I thought he was just shy around her."

"No." Darovin said shaking his head. "He seems to have taken a real disliking to her for some reason."

"Well have you talked about it with him?" Llandri asked her husband. "See what it is?"

"Yes I have, on a few occasions."

"And?"

Darovin looked over at Magoza. "Well, sometimes he seems regretful of his distrust and other times its like he's being purposefully antagonistic."

"Maybe I should go talk to him." Llandri suggested. "Maybe I can get something out of him."

"If you think it'll work." her husband agreed.

Llandri turned to Magoza. I'll try and sort this out for you. It's not fair for you to have to live with someone who dislikes you so much."

"Thank you." Magoza replied. "But honestly it doesn't bother me that much."

"Nonsense." Llandri said. "I'll get to the bottom of it."

She left for the guar pen, walking along the cobbled pathway. In a few minutes, she was setting foot into the pen, where Brendarr was once again tending to the animal.

"You spend a lot of time down here as of late." Llandri said to him.

"Yeah." he replied.

"Any reason why?"

"Not really."

"Has nothing to do with the Orc does it?"

He scowled, turning his attention towards his mother. "What did she say about me?" he accused.

"Absolutely nothing. It was your father who told me you didn't like Magoza very much."

"We don't need her here."

"Why don't you like her?"

Brendarr turned away. "I've already had this discussion."

"With your father, not with me."

Brendarr shrugged. "Still had it."

"Just tell me what the problem is?" Llandri asked.

"She's a stranger in our house." he told her.

"Back when we could afford it, we often had strangers come work for us. We gave it time and they became like family."

Brendarr nodded over at the four small unused buildings behind the farmhouse. "They lived in them, not in our house."

"You can't expect her to live alone in one them. She's just a kid."

"Is she? How old is she even?"

"I think she's seventeen."

"Old enough to live on one of them small houses then."

"I don't get why you're being so difficult."

"I just don't want to talk about it."

"We have to talk about it, Brendarr."

"Why?" he asked her. "Why do we have to talk about it?"

"Because I want to be able to understand what the problem is exactly."

"Nothing to understand. She's an Orc in our house, that's it."

"So it's because she's an Orc?"

"She's not one of us, she's an outsider."

"She may be an outsider, but she's done some good work."

"Do you like her more than me?" Brendarr asked her suddenly.

"Of course not. While she's nice and I respect her, I _love _you son. You will always be the light in both mine and you father's life. Don't ever forget that."

Brendarr stroked the guar's snout.

"It can't feel that y'know." she told him.

"Naren knows, don't you boy?" he said as he patted him.

"I wish you had a woman to spend this much time with."

"Do you see any women around here?" he asked. "I tend to go into the city for supplies once a week, and I don't have time nor the coin to go 'wife hunting' I'm afraid."

"There is a woman around here." Llandri said to him. "But you seem to have a problem with her that I still don't understand."

He glared at her. "You're not setting me up with that Orc!" he sputtered angrily.

"Well she wouldn't have been my first choice, and I'm sure your father wouldn't be happy with the idea either. But if only you could find some Dunmer girl who is nice like her."

"A Dunmer like _her_?" he repeated. "So a Dunmer with teeth sticking out her face, weird eyes and a crazy temper?"

"Magoza doesn't have a temper."

"She's an Orc. Make them angry and they'll eat your heart."

"They are just silly stories, used to frighten folk into being prejudiced against the Orcs."

"Just keep telling yourself that. One day something will make her mad and she'll use those teeth to rip out your throat."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's not, Orcs are crazy beast-folk that only look like people."

"You're not scared of her are you?"

"No!" Brendar uttered quickly.

"You are."

"No I'm not!" he said defensively. "She's dangerous."

"She's got arms like broom handles, I don't think she's any threat to you."

"Can we just drop it okay?"

"No we can't. You need to have a sit down with her. Get to know her better."

"I'm not sitting anywhere with her!"

"Well you need to do something. She might be here for a while."

"I'll just stay out of her way."

"You can't hide from her forever."

"I don't have to. She'll mess up sooner or later, then she'll be out."

Llandri sighed loudly, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Brendarr, you need to be able to get along with her. She's doing us good and she tries really hard."

"Yeah, father said the same thing."

"Because it's true."

"Okay, just give me some time."

"Are you saying that because you need time, or are you simply shutting down this conversation?"

"A bit of both."

"Well we'll be in the farmhouse if you need anything."

Brendarr shrugged. "Sure."

Llandri left her son with the guar. She was deeply concerned that he would never be able to get along with Magoza. If things got any worse, then unfortunately she would be forced to ask the Orc to move on. While she liked the young woman, in her heart her family came first, no matter how likeable or hard-working she was.

"How did it go?" Darovin asked as she stepped through the front door.

Llandri looked around for Magoza. "Where is she?"

"Went upstairs."

"Oh."

"So how did it go?" he asked once more.

"He's scared of her."

"You're joking?"

"I wish I were. It might be a while before he gets over it."

"Well we'll give it time."

"That's what he said."

"Then he wants to move past the fear then?"

"I have no idea if he does or not. All I know is that he put off having to talk to her.

"We'll figure something out."

"Maybe." she said.

Llandri didn't feel very optimistic that a solution would be found. For now she would let it be. Hopefully Brendarr would come around. She didn't want to think about the outcome if he didn't.

* * *

Valerie clutched her husband's hand tightly. His chest rose and fell slowly as he took breath, but his eyes remained closed as they had done since he collapsed in that cave.

As she understood it, Tam had not only collected the bounty on the sabre cats earlier that day, but had also warned the Jarl of the strange creatures.

As to whether or not the Jarl had managed to get out of paying the full bounty price was another matter. He had successfully done so before, and it wouldn't surprise her if he had done so again, despite the grave injury that had occurred on the job.

Mostly she had been alone with him. Occasionally the restoration mage Arellin would come check on him, and other times she caught college students stood near the doorway looking in. Upon catching them, they quickly moved on.

She felt yet another presence behind her. Half expecting to see more students gawking in, she turned to see Tam, who was stood by the arched doorway. She was dressed as usual in her hefty armour,how she tolerated wearing it all the time, Valerie didn't know.

"How is he?" Tam asked her concerned.

"The same as he has been since we gave him the cure for the poison."

"If isn't awake by tomorrow evening, we'll have to try something else."

Valerie looked back down at her husband. "The Restoration mage, Arellin has come in a couple of times and seen to him. She says that it's just a matter of time."

"I hope so."

Valerie looked over at her. "Come in and sit down."

"I don't want to intrude."

"You're not intruding."

"Are you sure?"

"I want someone to talk to."

"Okay then."

Tam sat on a creaky chair in the corner and placed her hands firmly upon her plated lap.

"Tell me about yourself?" Valerie inquired, wanting to take her mind off of her husband's condition. "You said you were a Blade?"

"Yes for a long time."

"Well how did that happen?"

"I was part of the Legion."

"And that lead to the Blades?"

"Yes and no. I think they discovered my past and thought I'd be a valuable asset."

"I think I remember. You said you were in the Dominion or something?"

"Yes, well I was born in Alinor. The city not the Isle."

"Isle?" Valerie inquired. "There's an Isle of Alinor?"

"It's what the Summerset Isles are known as in the Dominion."

"And you were born in the third era?"

"Third-era four-thirty-two. When I was a year old Tamriel was attacked by hordes of Daedra sent by Mehrunes Dagon. The Daedra were driven back in the Summerset Isles by powerful mages and wizards, who just happened to be Thalmor."

"And that's how they rose to power?"

"They were seen as heroes. They protected the civilians and sealed many Oblivion Gates."

"But it was a Septim, a descendant of Talos that sealed them completely. When he used the Amulet of Kings to turn into the avatar of Akatosh."

Tam smiled. "Many believe it was not just an avatar, but that it was Akatosh himself."

Valerie glanced down at her husband, giving his hand a squeeze. "Why do they hate Talos so much?" she asked, looking back at Tam.

"Because he is a man made Divine. That very concept undermines everything they stand for. They believe that man is inferior to mer in every single way."

"They hate him because he was human?"

"Yes, and they believe that he cannot be a Divine because of it."

"But worshipping at his shrine gives verifiable benefits."

"Only to those that believe."

The Nord nodded slowly. "So you grew up under the thumb of the Thalmor?"

"No, I grew up in a world where their power and influence was ever-increasing. When I was old enough, I joined the army as a foot soldier and was sent on several missions. The Thalmor were still not entirely in control at that point, but were well praised and very influential."

"You said that one of the missions caused you to leave?"

"It was an accumulation really. We were sent into the Valenwood forest to find the remaining lost colonies of the Ayleids."

Valerie's eyes widened in surprise. "Hold on, what?"

"There were rumours that the Ayleids, the once proud Heartland-High-Elves of Cyrodiil, well." Tam paused. "There was some evidence that suggested that after they were defeated by their human slaves back in the first era, that they fled into the densest parts of the Valenwood forest."

"Did they?"

"We found colonies of mer-folk hidden away in the most inhospitable places."

"But you don't know if they were Ayleids?"

"No."

"And what were you supposed to do once you found them?"

"Give them a chance to join the Dominion and its forces, or die."

"What did the Thalmor want them for?"

"Apart from the Dwemer, the Ayleids were the most powerful mer that there ever was. The Thalmor wanted to know if they still knew the powerful ancient magicks that made them so powerful."

"But didn't they get their power from the Daedra?"

"Yes."

"What happened during your mission?"

"They didn't want to join any army."

"Did you kill them?"

"We killed everyone in most of the small villages, but in some had shamans. We were to take them back to Alinor and give them up for interrogation."

"Why did you kill them?" Valerie asked her. "How could you?"

"I was Thalmor."

"_You _were Thalmor?" Valerie said, almost disbelieving.

"Yes."

"How did that happen?"

"My parents were Thalmor." Tam clarified. "It was kind of inherited."

"Oh."

"And I did it because I was a soldier in an army."

The Nord stared at her for a moment, before clearing her throat in preparation of asking another question. "Back at the camp-fire north of Whiterun, you said that you were forced to destroy Bosmer villages in 'purges'?"

"I only did one of those. I never completed it. In the commotion of the attack I left. Headed eastwards into Elsweyr. I sold my armour and bought some cheap moonstone armour. Absolutely terrible stuff, probably why you don't see much of it around, but it got me through. I eventually ended up in Cyrodiil. At that time I saw the races of man as nothing but chaff. I felt superior and even spoke down to people. Honestly, I was a bitch."

"What changed you?"

"In the fourth-era thirty-eight I moved to Cheydinhal as there was a strong Dunmer presence, and even though I felt they were inferior elves, I wanted to be around other mer. That and it was one of the furthest places away from the Dominion. About two years later we were forced to flee for our lives."

"Why?"

"You've never experienced terror until you've fled an army of undead controlled from a flying island."

"That's just a fairy-tale to frighten children."

"It was quite real. Nothing gets you to re-think things like running for your life."

"And you stopped being a bitch?"

Tam laughed. "Well I did get to know a human family as we fled. They were nice to me, while everyone else treated me as I had treated them. Like a piece of horse manure." Tam shook her head slowly. "I found that men were no different to mer, not really. Both have hopes, dreams and fears. Both bleed and feel pain. Later my acceptance extended beyond just man. I found that everyone is the same. Be it beast, mer or man. We're all the same deep down."

"Then what happened?"

"I joined the Cheydinhal city guard after the flying city, Umbriel had been dealt with. Did that for a decade before joining the Legion."

"And that eventually lead to the Blades?"

"Yes."

"So how did people join them before they were disbanded?"

"Lots of different ways. The way it happened for me is that they reached out to me. Cautiously of course. They knew of my past, and thought me either as a great asset, or a mole giving information back to the Dominion. I informed them on the purges. They already suspected such a thing was likely."

"Why do the Thalmor kill people in these purges?" Valerie inquired.

"It's all to do with purity of blood. I'm not sure exactly, how they deem one to be 'pure'. All I know is that they cannot be too brazen about it. They are carried out almost in secret. The Bosmer people could quite easily turn on their own leaders, and the Dominion if it were discovered to be actually happening. In the past they've blamed it on bandits, saying they attacked the villages. As the war approached, they spread rumours stating it was the Empire's fault."

"What about the Dark Elves?"

"You mean regarding the purges?" Tam asked.

"Yes."

"From my time in Alinor, it was quite clear that they were seen as being corrupted by the Daedra, the same as the Orcs, but they see the Orcs as too far removed from mer to bother with right now. From what I gathered, they also see the Bretons as abominations.

"So the Dark Elves and Orcs would not be safe if the Dominion ruled Tamriel?"

"No race of mer, man nor beast would be safe. Only who they deemed to be of pure Aldmeri blood would be truly safe. How far they would actually try and take it I have no idea. As far as they think they could get away with. If they thought they could wipe out the races of man and beast, and non-Aldmeri mer, then they probably would."

Valerie didn't immediately respond. Instead she looked down at her husband as he lay there. "Seems so backwards."

"It is." Tam agreed. "During the Septim Empire of Tamriel, we were all joined. It wasn't perfect, but it certainly sounded like it was something."

"Yeah."

"So, I've told you about myself. How about you tell me about yourself."

Valerie looked at her with half a smile. "Perhaps another day."

Tam smiled back. "I look forward to it."

Valerie stared down at her husband, squeezing his hand. "I'd like the both of us to tell you our story."

"I'd like that." Tam agreed. "I'd like that a lot." Tam rose up from her chair. "I'm off to go grab something to eat. Do you want anything?"

"Maybe a little something." she replied.

Tam left the room, leaving Valerie alone with her husband once more. She leant over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Come back to me" she whispered. "Come back."

* * *

"Keep down and stay quiet!" Rasha hissed at Faldan, as they both moved off the road behind a pile of rocks.

In front of them on a rocky ridge was a large group of bandits, and it appeared they were setting up a rock trap, ready to be sprung on any unwary passers by. It was also quite obvious, unless of course you were travelling in a snow storm, which by the looks of the gathering clouds, it wouldn't be long before there was one.

"How will we get past?" Faldan asked her.

"Sneak by." she responded, looking around.

"How?"

It was a valid question in Rasha's eyes. There were only a few pine trees about, and the white snow everywhere would make them stick out. From their vantage point the bandits could easily land an arrow or two.

Rasha wondered how long they had been there. By the fact they appeared to be still setting up their trap, could mean that they hadn't been there long. She chided herself at that possibility, as they had spent a good part of the day at the mill further down the road. The workers there had been happy to see travellers, and Faldan had quickly started a conversation with them, despite her telling him that they should continue on.

Instead they had stopped and the owner of the mill, a youngish Nord woman who's name she couldn't recall, had offered them some food if they helped move some logs for them. Rasha had been about to decline, when Faldan had gleefully taken up the offer, asking if they could take a nap afterwards also.

Agreeing, they had both helped move the logs into position, ready to be cut. Unfortunately, the owner had made the ordeal far worse as she hadn't shut up. She had told them how her father had died in the war, and that she had inherited the mill. She had then gone on about how cold it got this time of year, which the Khajiit had to agree.

With seven hefty great logs set up ready to be cut, the owner had allowed them to take a shot nap in her house. Of course it had been in chairs near the fire, and not in an actual bed. Faldan had fallen asleep rather quickly, while Rasha simply dosed till the owner had asked them to either continue helping, or move on. Rasha had quickly thanked her for her kindness and informed her they would be moving on, and now it appeared that if they hadn't stopped, they might not be in the position they found themselves in now. That, and the fact that Faldan walked about as slow as a wolf with its hind legs missing.

Rasha peaked over the rock they were hiding behind. "I doubt we can get past them without them seeing us, unless we try to go round the back of them."

"How will we do that?" Faldan asked. "This whole area doesn't have that many places we can hide, and I doubt we'll get away with running from tree to tree. They'll spot us for sure."

"Shhh!" she hushed. "I'm trying to think of a way out of this. Shut up and let me take in our surroundings!"

Faldan fell instantly quiet, while the Khajiit scanned their surroundings.

"Damn this snow!" she said angrily. "We might have to wait till nightfall." she said looking up at the early afternoon sun that lay high in the sky, the gathering clouds threatening to cover it up. "Which looks like it will be several hours or so."

"Do you think we'll be able to get past?" Faldan asked her.

"Not sure."

"We could always head back to Anga's Mill." he suggested.

Rasha looked at him unimpressed. "No, we find a way past."

That's when they heard howling behind them.

They both turned around to see a pack of three wolves descending down the hillside, through the tall snow-covered pine trees. Rasha swore as she prepared her dagger. But not before she heard shouting from the ridge. If the bandits didn't know they were there at this moment, they would in a few seconds when she buried her dagger into the first wolf's neck.

As they got into range, Rasha jumped from cover and flayed the first wolf's face open with a single sweeping strike, before smashing the end of her boot into the face of another. There was more shouting from the ridge, before arrows started to fly over her head. As one wolf ran off, she sank her dagger into the side of another's head as an arrow struck the third.

"Get them before they run off!" she heard a voice yell from behind.

She turned to Faldan. "We have to go!"

"Where!?"

"Back from where we came, we'll have to find another route!"

The two of them ran as fast as they could. Luckily, the bandits who had given chase, were too far behind to catch them up. an hour later, they were passing the mill once again. Faldan mentioned asking if they could stay the night, but with a quick smack around the back of the head from Rasha, they continued on. Hopefully using the map that Faldan had, they could find another route. If not, then they might have to go across the frozen tundra, which Rasha didn't want to do. Especially since in around two hours it would start getting dark.

Unfortunately, that was the only road which meant they'd either have to take the long route, or go across country. She chose the latter, deciding to go the scenic route around Lake Yorgrim.

It wouldn't be pleasant trekking it, but it would probably be much better than an arrow in the face.


	10. DaggerintheWindCh09

**Chapter IX**

Concealed in the shadow of night, a small group moved quietly around the outside of the Karo farmhouse. They were watching, waiting for the right time to strike.

Only after an hour or so had passed since the last candle had been snuffed out, did they creep into the farmhouse, easily picking the lock on the front door. They moved silently, unheard.

When they reached the top of the stairwell, they split into groups. Each were looking for the ones that dwelt within the old house.

Once before they had tried this. But they had been spotted by the workers in the smaller houses, who had sounded the alarm with a loud shout. They had been forced to retreat lest they take unnecessary casualties, as the owner of the farm had shot at them with his crossbow.

Now those small buildings were vacant, unused. Their chances of being spotted or discovered before they got what they came for was almost zero. Their mission would succeed, their goals would be met.

They each found who they had been looking for, leaving the Orc where she lay. Soon they had the three Dunmer in shackles, ready to be taken away.

The family struggled and yelled muffled cries under their gags. It did them no good however, as it was already too late for them. The family would be taken back to Narsis City, a once proud Dunmer city, which now lay under Argonian control.

* * *

The day dawned and Magoza awoke with a yawn and a stretch. She climbed out of bed and after dressing in her tunic and trousers, she made her way downstairs. Oddly enough, neither Darovin nor Llandri were up yet, which struck her as unusual. They were often up and about well before her.

She noticed the front door was open, and suspected that they were already outside working. However when she went outside to look, they were nowhere to be seen.

Now she was starting to worry. It wasn't like them to leave the front door wide open, and not keep in view of the house. Something was wrong.

The young Orc quickly ran back into the farmhouse, making her way hurriedly up the stairs. She knocked hard on Darovin's and Llandri's bedroom door. When there was no answer, she pushed the door open to find the room was empty.

She moved further inside, her heart pounding hard in her chest. The bed sheets had been torn, and a few ornaments on the night-stand had been smashed. Magoza turned on her heels and ran out, bursting into Brendarr's room, finding that it was the same there.

Something terrible had happened. Someone or something had taken them, or even killed them and moved the bodies. While there was no blood, there were many ways they could have been murdered in the night without using instruments that caused bleeding. Whatever had happened, she found that once again she was terrified and alone.

She headed down to the kitchen area and sat down at the table, her head in her hands. She held back the tears that threatened to burst from her eyes, not knowing if she could. They had gone and she had no idea what to do, or even how to find them if they were even still alive to be found.

Frantically, she moved from room to room, searching every cupboard and every drawer, hoping to find anything that could allude to where they had gone, why they had gone, or if there were any threatening letters hidden away to shed light on who could have taken them.

After a half hour of searching, she found nothing.

With only the chest by the window in the kitchen left, she pulled it open, rummaging through the assortment of bits and pieces inside, removing small quivers full of strange small arrows. Finally, she removed a large bow looking contraption made out of ebony. She put it to the side, not understanding what it was.

She placed it back in the chest before closing it shut. There was nothing more that could be done here. The only place she could go was the city, to see if anyone there knew what had happened, or at least had a clue as to what had happened.

The problem was that it was a long trip to Almalexia, and she didn't quite know the way. She had only been there once before and that was a couple of days ago now.

With no other choice, she found her hide armour, and orcish boots, before grabbing some supplies, packing them into a large knapsack she found in one of the cupboards, and headed for the door. As she pulled at the handle, she turned looking back at the chest.

While she hadn't known what the strange ebony bow-like contraption had been, she felt compelled to at least figure it out before leaving. There might be a chance, depending on what she discovered in the city regarding their disappearance, that she might never come back here.

She threw the chest open and pulled it out along with the small unusual arrows. She rummaged some more until she found what looked like a sheath or scabbard. She pulled it out, inspecting it. From the way it was shaped, it appeared that it was designed to hold the odd bow.

She put the scabbard on, it draping down her back, sheathing the ebony bow device into it. She then grabbed the small arrow quivers and shoved most of them into her knapsack, only fixing one quiver to her belt.

She stepped outside before unsheathing the contraption again, removing one of the small arrows and trying to figure out how it worked.

She pulled the bowstring back into a small hook that lay underneath a some kind of lever. Moving her head back in fear the string might snap and hit her, she pulled the lever backwards. It was tough, and felt like it might break, but she persevered and the lever locked in place, the bowstring pulled back taught.

Placing the small arrow into the small groove that lay in front of the bowstring on the top of the contraption, she aimed it at an old sign before wondering how to fire it. All she could see was a long piece of metal that ran parallel to the handle at the back of the body. She figured that if she pulled it with her fingers, that the bow-thing would fire the arrow.

Once again she aimed it at the sign and gripped the long piece of metal, pulling it hard with her four fingers. The contraption burst into life as it released the string, sending the arrow hurtling towards the target. It embedded itself deep into the wood, almost splitting the sign in two.

Magoza felt her jaw go slack at the sheer power the device held. It was far more powerful than any bow she had seen. The Orc knew that it would be a very useful tool to have with her. Magoza suddenly felt like an idiot, she almost left without it, disregarding it as useless to her. But it seemed it may be just the opposite.

With nothing more to lose, she gathered what little coin she could find around the house and left the farm and headed eastwards along the road. Almalexia was her destination, and she desperately hoped someone there would have some idea as to what had happened to the Karo family. What had happened to her friends.

* * *

Valerie awoke from where she had slept, slouched on the wooden chair by her husband's side in the mages college. Her neck hurt and her back ached, the price she was willing to pay, if it meant that she remained by Rontag's side.

Her throat was dry and her stomach rumbled, but she decided to ignore it.

Tam had suggested to the restoration mage, Arellin, that they try something else. But the healer had simply told them that time was now the only cure. It hadn't been what Valerie had wanted to hear, as she desperately wanted to see Rontag awake, to see his eyes gazing into hers.

She reached for his hand, taking it in hers. A tear rolled down her cheek as she squeezed it gently, feeling the warmth of his hand in hers. All she wanted now was for him to awaken, for him to be all right.

Once again Valerie scolded herself, for being so angry at him for what he had mistakenly said. She had been so concerned about the dead, that she had forgotten the living. It was strange at how quickly she had forgotten how much she had missed him during his absence. Now she remembered it all too well.

"You came back to me once." she said aloud, her voice cracking under the emotional strain. "Come back to me again."

Her hopes were raised as she felt her husband's hand twitch. She rose up from the chair and looked closely at his face, desperately hoping his eyes would open.

"Rontag?" she whispered. "Rontag, are you awake?"

When he didn't respond to her pleading, she sat back down feeling dejected. Deep down she knew he would return to her. She just didn't know when.

* * *

The snow was falling heavily, washing the sky white. Faldan complained to Rasha about it yet again, but as before, she ignored him. She had started to shiver, uncontrollably at times. Her toes were numb, and her face ached from the cold. No matter how bad she felt, she knew that they both had to continue on or they would probably die from exposure.

The two of them were heading northwards on the road that they had just set foot on not a half hour ago, though sometimes they wondered if they were still on it. The road was almost invisible under the thick snow, only patches of road showed through here and there. It was just enough for them to follow, but too little for them to stop concentrating for even a second, lest they lose sight of it.

Using a map, they had headed around Lake Yorgrim on the south shore where there was only white, snowy wilderness. Rasha had decided that it would be safer than trying to get around the bandits, and that because it was a lake, that they wouldn't get as easily lost if they followed it around.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been entirely safe, having narrowly avoided a bear and then getting slightly lost in the night, going too far west. Eventually they found the lake again and continued north, then east around it.

An hour or so before dawn, they passed a cave with odd bronze pipes around it. Rasha had briefly stopped, wondering what they were, before continuing on as snow had started to flutter from the sky.

Now it was sometime in the mid-morning, and the weather had gotten much worse. Their visibility was almost non existent beyond twelve paces or so, and concern that they would freeze to death was starting to become a real possibility.

"Erm, do you mind if we head left at the upcoming junction?" Faldan asked suddenly.

"Wrong direction." Rasha told him.

"There's an inn there."

She looked over at him before nodding slowly. "That's a good idea." she agreed.

"Just what I thought." Before adding. "To get out of this freezing cold."

At the junction they turned left, and before long, they came across the lonesome inn. They quickened their pace, almost rushing up the wooden steps to the front door. They both stepped inside, into the invigorating warmth.

The place was empty apart from a Cyrodilic couple who sat over at a table, and the Nord who was stood behind the bar.

"More customers?" he said loudly with a wide smile. "It must be my lucky day."

"Yes." Rasha said before sitting down at one of the tables.

Faldan sat next to her, sighing with pleasure at the heat of the fire on his back.

"Want anything to eat or drink?" the innkeeper asked them.

"Got any hot drinks?" the Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit replied.

"We've got mead, that's it I'm afraid."

"Oh,"

"If you really want something to drink that's non-alcoholic, then sorry. Unless you buy some stew. That's got water in it. Otherwise you could probably scoop up some snow from outside. Bring it in by the fire and then you'll have a drink."

"So you don't have watermelons or anything like that?" she asked. "So I can make a hot watermelon drink out of it, or is that too much to ask out here?"

He shook his head with a grin. "We're not in Elsweyr up here, can't get any fancy stuff like that."

"Well actually, I was born and raised in Cyrodiil." she told him. "Something my mother taught me how to make."

"Cyrodiil you say? Did you come up here because of the war?" he asked.

"Yes and no, things are not pretty down there at the moment. The war may be over, but the scars are plain as day."

"Well Skyrim is pretty much the same as it's always been." he told her.

"I see. Anyway, can I have some of that stew."

"Sure."

"And some for me." Faldan added.

A few moments later, the innkeeper brought them their stew and they both ate it in silence. Once their bowls were empty, they both turned around to face the large fire.

Faldan looked across at Rasha, who sat beside him. The way the firelight hit the side of her face, made her look strangely attractive, despite the fact that she was a Khajiit and certainly not one he had an eye for. Not usually anyway.

She looked back at him, her eyes narrowed. "Something wrong?" the Khajiit asked.

He looked away. "No, nothing."

"You were staring at me." she said. "I haven't spilled stew on my face have I?" she asked, rubbing around her mouth.

"No, it was nothing."

"Thinking about Winterhold?"

His heart skipped a beat. He hadn't really thought about it. The truth was, he had no idea how Tam would react. On that final day, he had left the mine, telling the Altmer that he was going for some air. In actuality he was telling the Thalmor, which had arrived in his small home late last night, that she was in the mine with the rest of the village. He had expected them to simply retrieve her, and for them to then wipe away the records of his less than legitimate past, so that he could return to his home in Valenwood and restart his life amongst his people.

Instead they had sought to kill him. But he had been the sneaky little bastard, and they hadn't gotten him quite that easily. But Tam was a problem for him. He hadn't really considered it, but when they finally got to Winterhold and found her, then she'd know for sure that he was behind the deaths back at Minestead. He knew that she would probably kill him, and he would deserve it. All those people had died because he had wanted to go home. Now he knew that he could never go home again. Ever.

Faldan realised he had to face what he'd done like a mer. He would reveal all to Tam. She deserved that much.

He looked over at Rasha. "Why did you decide not to kill me?" he asked her. "The Thalmor won't like that."

"Because I'm not Dark Botherhood, or just any old sell-sword. I've always lived by a strong moral code. Unfortunately it's the reason I don't get many bounties. Lack of gold is how I ended up in the Thalmor Embassy acquiring their shady contract."

"But Tam will not be happy when she discovers what I did." he told her. "She will kill me."

"I'll make sure that doesn't happen."

Somehow, he knew she was telling the truth, and strangely he was relieved the Thalmor had sent her to kill him. He was discovering that a bounty hunter with a conscience made for a bad bounty hunter, and he was glad. _Very _glad.

* * *

Following the old road signs to the city of Almalexia hadn't been easy, especially when some of the signposts at road junctions had missing directions on it. Another problem had been that a couple of times she had been attacked by small worm-like creatures, though they had not been difficult, as a quick fireball had easily dealt with them.

Now in the early afternoon, she set foot once again into the old decrepit city.

From what she had been told by the Karo family, Almalexia and Mournhold had once been occupied and sacked by an Argonian invasion force. The Dunmer had then some time later fought back, driving the lizard-like people from their homes and reoccupied the city. However it wasn't the same as it had been. The city was in ruin, and many who returned to continue the lives they had lost, found that their homes had been destroyed and they quickly became penniless.

It was terrible what had become of the folk here, but Magoza knew she couldn't help the destitute. However, there was a possibility that if she could find out what happened to the Karo's, that she could at least help them.

She rushed over to the first guard she saw. "Excuse me?" she said frantically, moving in front of him.

"What?" he asked, his deep voice slightly muffled behind the thick bone-mould helmet.

"The Karo's are gone!" she said.

"Who are the Karo's?" the guard asked her. "And why should I care?"

"They owned a farm a few miles west, they've gone, vanished!" she yelled.

"A lot of folks go missing." the guard said. "Now move off!"

"But they've been taken!" she cried out.

"I said clear off!" the guard warned.

"Don't you care!?"

"I'm here to keep the city safe, nothing more. Now go away or I'll throw you in jail."

"But they've been taken!" she bawled.

The guard rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword. "Go away outlander, or I _will_ throw you behind thick steel bars." he threatened.

"But-"

"Enough!" he yelled.

Magoza turned away, fighting back the tears. The guard wouldn't help her, and she had no clue as to who would.

She headed deeper into the city, wiping tears as they fell from her eyes. There was nowhere she could go, no one she could talk to.

"Will someone help me!?" she screamed as she meandered down the street.

She felt absolutely alone. The strange architecture, the large mushrooms, silt-striders, netches and other alien looking creatures, only solidified the sense that she was far from anything she even remotely considered home.

"Help me!"

The locals stared at her, some moved to the other side of the street. Others grabbed their children and took them inside, while the homeless sat there looking at the Orc as she passed them by.

Magoza froze. In the distance she saw an oddly familiar elderly Nord woman. The old Nord looked across at her, before heading down into an alleyway.

For a moment, she thought it had been Nora, a most kind woman who had helped her back in a small farming village known as Rorikstead in Skyrim. She knew it couldn't be her, as she had died. Still, there was a frightening resemblance. So much so in fact, that Magoza felt compelled to follow her.

She ran over to the alleyway and looked down it. Whoever the old Nord woman had been, was nowhere to be seen. All she saw was an Argonian dressed in dark clothes, who appeared to be homeless, sat in an angled gutter leant up against a house wall.

The young Orsimer slowly made her way over to him, frightful of his strange appearance and dagger-like teeth.

He looked over at her and she froze. His eyes were narrow, and his snout long and scaly. Now she was closer, she realised his dark clothes was actually armour. The cuirass appeared to be made out of iron or steel, where the greaves, sleeves and hood, were made out of leather.

The Argonian grabbed a bow, something she hadn't noticed was there.

"What do you want!?" he hissed at her.

Her mind began to race. Why had she come down the alleyway? Then she remembered, the old woman had come this way.

"Leave me be!" the Argonian said again, his voice raspy.

"Did you see an Old Nord woman come down here?" Magoza questioned, slowly easing her way backwards.

"No." he responded angrily.

Magoza thought that odd. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure." he said, his already narrow pupils narrowing even more. "You are the only person I've seen down here in the last few hours." he said.

That couldn't be right. She had seen the old woman walk down this very alleyway, and there were no doors or anything, so she must have passed him by at the very least.

"But I saw her come down here."

"You must be mistaken."

"Are you okay?" she asked him, concerned by his obvious plight. "You don't look homeless, but you're sitting in the alley like one."

"There is nothing you can do, now go away!"

She shrugged. "Fine, wallow there in pity! I have a family to find!" she spat.

She turned and began to make her way out of the alleyway.

"Hold on!" she heard the Argonian hiss from behind her.

She turned around. "You want to talk to me now?"

"What do you mean? Has a family gone missing?"

"The Karo's, they own a farm miles west of here."

"Gone in the night?" he asked. "With little sign of a struggle?"

"Yes, but whoever took them left me behind."

The Argonian rose up slowly from where he sat. "I may know what happened to them." he revealed.

"What!?" she asked hopeful and fearful at the same time.

"Do you have any clues as to what happened to them?" he questioned.

"No, just that they vanished."

"If they left you, an Orc, but took the Dark Elves, then it was probably by the command of a Talen-Xil."

"Who?"

"He's an Argonian." he revealed. "Lives in a large manor house outside of Narsis City."

"Narsis City?" she asked him.

"It was a Dark Elf city, but now is controlled by my people."

"Then we must go save them!"

"We?" he questioned. "Depending on whether he has a buyer or not, they might not even be there any more."

"What do you mean a buyer?" she asked him concerned.

"Some wealthy Argonians like to take the Dark Elves as slaves. They see it as some kind of retribution for the slavery the Dark Elves used to shackle my people with."

"That's horrible!"

"Yes. Well it's probably already too late for them."

"But there may still be time. They only vanished last night."

The Argonian sat back down. "Then I wish you luck." he said to her.

"You're not going to help me?" she asked.

"No, I am not welcome there."

"But you have to help me."

He scowled at her. Or at least she thought it was a scowl. "I do not have to do anything."

"Please!" she begged. "I don't even know where Narsis is!"

"Then buy a map!" he replied with a raised voice. "You already got a lot from me, and I am tired."

"You're a monster!" she yelled.

"That is what the Dark Elves around here call me."

She turned and left. All she had on her was what she had found around the house, which had been only fifty gold coins. While it was more than enough to get a map, she knew out here it wouldn't last her long. She just hoped someone sold one that included southern Morrowind.


	11. DaggerintheWindCh10

**Chapter X**

Valerie needed some air, she needed to get away for a few hours. Not only to clear her mind, but to get out of that room, to get away from the college. She felt trapped by the walls, insulted by the stares. With Tam agreeing to sit by Rontag's side, she left, making her way back into the city.

Seeing her husband laying there, unconscious had become too much to bear any longer. Every second, a little more of her heart was torn away. Every single moment she felt more and more desperate.

She sat on the corner of porch railing, out front of their creaky, leaky house. The cold air helped clear out the fog that had been slowly settling on her head over the past few days, but it didn't help the heavy pumping of her heart, or the sick feeling in her stomach.

She held her side, where she had been impaled by the conjured Aldmeri sword all those years ago. The old wound still gave her grief every once in a while, but it hadn't lasted for more than a few minutes at a time. Now it was starting to pain, and she rubbed it through her thick leather Imperial armour.

Her mind wandered back to her husband. She felt guilty at being so angry at him before. He had been gone from her for so long, and when he returned to her, she had quickly taken it for granted. Now his life hung in the balance, and she wished that she had made the most of the time that she'd had with him before hand.

While Valerie desperately hoped that he would wake soon, she wouldn't let it be while she wasn't there. Valerie wanted the first thing he saw to be her face looking down at him, her hand in his.

She pushed herself off the porch, her boots disappearing into the build up of snow beneath.

So far she hadn't had the chance to get out of her armour, and even now she felt as though she didn't have the time to change out of them.

She headed off back into the college. She would sit by her husband's side till he awoke, knowing that she couldn't bear to lose him.

* * *

The young Orsimer Magoza, had purchased a map like the Argonian had suggested, and made her way promptly back to the farm, arriving sometime in the early evening.

After studying the small arrows, she used the old forge to begin manufacturing more. Satisfied with how well they had turned out, she used them to practice until nightfall, discovering she wasn't particularly good with the strange bow-like contraption.

Feeling that she couldn't lose any more time, she decided to get a few hours rest, then head off to Narsis.

Unfortunately she couldn't sleep. She simply lay there, tossing and turning in bed, her eyes wide open. Her mind kept conjuring up scenarios of what could be happening to them right now, of the tortures they could be enduring while she was curled up in a nice warm bed.

With no prospect of sleep claiming her, she got up and prepared to leave. She made sure she took as much foodstuffs with her as she could carry, and grabbed one of the lighten oil lamps off the side to take with her, along with a bottle of lamp oil.

Satisfied, the young Orsimer left the farmhouse, closing the door behind her. Then, before she left, she headed over to the guar pen and made sure it had plenty of food.

All that done, she hit the road with the lamp in hand, following the old neglected road signs that pointed toward Narsis City.

As she walked down the long road, she couldn't help but notice the sounds the strange animals made in the distance. The wildlife made far much more noise here in this weird and strange land, then they did in either High Rock, or indeed Skyrim. The noises also did nothing to help the fear that sat like bile in her gut.

Magoza had never attempted anything like this before, and she had no way of knowing whether or not the Argonian in the alleyway had even been telling the truth. But she had been lead down there by some kind of phantom, or so she believed. It had only been a fleeting glimpse, but it was enough to make her feel that it wasnt' a mere coincidence. It was fate, or at least an inner feeling told her it was fate.

Suddenly, there was a crack and a hiss somewhere behind her. She spun around, fireball ready in her palm. The Orsimer's eyes searched the darkness frantically to find whatever had made the sound. Unfortunately, the lack of light other than her lamp and prepared flame spell, made seeing further than a dozen paces nearly impossible.

"Who's there!?" she called out into the night.

With no answer, she raised her right hand. At a moments notice she could cast a fire-bolt at whomever, or whatever was there.

"Answer or I'll start blasting you with exploding bolts of fire!"

"Calm down!" a voice hissed at her in the night. "I'm not here to harm you or anything, I just kicked something."

"Show yourself, or I'll start shooting!"

A figure emerged from the shadow of night. The sight of its long scaly snout and small beady eyes caused Magoza to jump with fright. She held back the urge to cast her spell, but remained vigilant as the Argonian slowly approached.

It wasn't until she noticed the leather and steel armour he was wearing, that she realised that it was the same Argonian from the alleyway in the city.

"It's you." she said. "Why are you here?"

"I've been following you." he replied simply, in his deep, hissed voice.

"Why?" she asked with suspicion. He hadn't been interested in helping her in the city, so why was he now?

"I knew you'd get yourself killed." he answered.

Magoza found the response to be less than satisfactory. In fact she didn't much like the Argonian, there was something off about him. She just didn't know what it was.

"I'm not dead yet, whoever you are." she said firmly.

"I shall tell you my name, if you tell me yours." he replied.

"Why should I do that?" she asked, wanting him to just leave her be.

"Because I'm going to help you."

"Why?"

He paused for a moment. "I used to." he stammered. "Well, I used to work for the one that is most likely behind the kidnapping of your friends."

While the revelation wasn't surprising, it was disheartening. Was this Argonian behind what had happened to the Karo's? Was he playing some kind of game with her, seeing how far she'd go to save them?

"And, what else?" she asked, needing him to explain further.

"I shall cut this short." he said. "I may know where they are."

"How?"

"I used to work for him. I just told you that."

"What do you mean you used to work for him?"

"I used to find Dark Elves that wouldn't be missed and bring them to Narsis City. From there they would be made into slaves."

"You should be ashamed!" she spat. "Slavery is wrong!"

"The Dark Elves figured that out too late." the Argonian said simply. "Some of my people want vengeance."

"Doesn't make it right."

"What is right and what is wrong is determined by the more powerful culture. Something that is wrong now was perfectly fine a-thousand years ago."

Magoza hated what she was hearing. This Argonian had taken people from their homes, possibly taken them from their families. It was abhorrent that anyone could do that, and that as of right now, she was alone with such a monster.

There was an awkward silence between them for several minutes. The sounds of the nocturnal creatures filled the night-time air.

"Hides-In-Trees." the Argonian said to her suddenly.

"What?" Magoza asked in confusion. She then began looking around, her fear rising. Was there some predator around that they needed to hide from?

"My name." he clarified. "I'm called Hides-In-Trees."

"That's not your name." she said disbelieving.

"It's the Cyrodilic translation of my name."

"Why are you called that?"

"Because it best describes me."

"You like to hide in trees?"

"I was a hunter before I was a slaver. I hid from large prey in the trees, then killed them with my skills."

"Why become a slaver?"

"The gold was good, and the benefits better. Talen-xil offered a lot."

"You're a horrible person." she said to him. "I'd never do anything like that, for any amount of coin. It's, well it's monstrous."

"Well that's easy for you to say, you've never been in that position before have you?"

"No, but-"

Hides continues, interrupting her. "I had only seen glimpses of Dark Elves before I became a slaver. They were so different from us, so alien. It was easy to look past the fact that they were people, and had their own hopes and dreams."

"You're still a monster."

"My people have been called much worse." Hides replied. "And you still haven't told me your name."

"Why should I tell the likes of you?"

"Because I'm going to help you retrieve your friends. I need redemption from my own past, and this might give me some reprieve."

"You use a lot of big words."

"Just because I am an Argonian, it does not mean I'm stupid."

"I didn't mean it like that." she said, almost apologetically.

"How did you mean it?" Hides-in-Trees asked her, unconvinced.

"As I said it. You use a lot of big words."

He folded his arms. "I do use a lot of big words, and now may I ask you what your name is?"

The young Orsimer finally relented. "It's Magoza." she told him. "Just Magoza."

"Well then, Magoza. I think we should find somewhere to camp. I do not know why you thought it a good idea to set off in the night, but it was foolish."

"I don't have time to camp."

"Yes you do. There is an old Dark Elf village near here, abandoned since the Argonian invasion. I suggest we stay there till sunrise, then continue onwards."

"But in the alleyway you said they might be sold, I can't wait!"

"Think for a moment!" he said to her. "We better hope they have been sold!"

"That's horrible!" she shouted in shock.

"No, you idiot!" he hissed back. "If Talen is using them as his own personal slaves, then we'll not get them out, it is as simple as that. If he has sold them, then we can strike when they are on the move."

"But how will we know?" she asked.

"Once we reach Narsis, I will ask around."

"You can do that?"

"I have some friends there, well former friends. People who actually hated me when I took Talen's offer. Slavery is kind of a sore subject and isn't spoken of. It's not liked among most of my people. The An-Xileel, the ones in charge unfortunately look the other way."

"So you know people there?"

"Yes, though like I said before, we are not on good terms."

"If they hate you, then why would they help?"

"You are coming along, and you will tell them what happened."

"Fine."

"Now let us find that village, so we can get some shelter."

* * *

The young Dunmer was struck across the face hard by a thick scaly claw, sending him crashing to the old tiled floor.

"Pick him up!" another, quite large Argonian hissed. "And throw him back in the cage with the other two."

Two large scaley arms grabbed Brendarr under his armpits, and lifted him roughly back to his feet.

He had made the mistake of talking back to the one that demanded they call master.

"This one has an attitude problem, but he is young. We'll just have to beat it out of him."

Brendarr felt himself being dragged forward before being thrown back to the ground, the sound of a metal door closing echoed around him.

"Brendarr!" he heard his mother cry. "Are you alright!?"

Brendarr sat up and looked at his parents. They were locked away inside a small cage in some larger room, all dressed in rags. The cage was roughly six foot by six foot, giving them some room to sit and lay down, but little of much else. Why they were in here, Brendarr didn't know, but he had a good idea who was behind it.

"I'm fine." he wheezed as he looked up at her. "But that Orc better watch out when we finally break free of here!"

"What do you mean?" his father asked him.

"Yes, Brendarr. What do you mean?" Llandri added, echoing her husband's question.

"She's behind this, I know she is!"

"That's stupid!" Darovin said angrily.

"Is it!?"

There conversation was cut short as one of the Argonian guards struck the cage hard.

The Dunmer family looked over at him, while the lizard-like man stared at them.

"Quiet!" he ordered. "You will sleep now, it late!"

"Make us!" Brendarr shouted at him.

"Don't!" Darovin whispered harshly. "You'll be beaten again!"

The Argonian simply looked away. "You have hard day ahead of you tomorrow. If you don't meet up to expectation, then you will be executed. Bad worker is no worker."

With that revelation, Brendarr and his two parents tried in vain to get some rest. But sleep didn't seem to want to come for any of them, as memories of their kidnapping replayed over and over in their minds. Of how they were woken with hands over their mouths and daggers to their throats. Of how they were bound and gagged under the constant threat of death.

They had been marched out of their home and taken along the road southwards. They hadn't stopped till they had reached Narsis City, which had been only a few hours ago.

Now they were in a cage like animals, their fates a complete unknown to them. Whatever did lay ahead would certainly not be pleasant for any of them.

* * *

The small fire lit up Hides-In-Trees' face, giving him a terrifying look. Magoza wondered if she'd even be able to sleep tonight. There was something about the way Argonians looked that screamed danger to her.

She looked down at the fire as Hides held some meat over it, that lay skewered on a large pointed stick.

Earlier on, he had killed some small creature that had taken residence in the village, and had sought to pull what little meat there was out of it. Now he was cooking it, and the smell was beginning to make the young Orsimer's stomach growl.

"So, how long had you been staying with the Dark Elf family?" the Argonian asked her.

"None of your business." Magoza replied.

She still didn't trust him. His motives weren't clear to her, and she still didn't believe that he had told her his real name. He had claimed that he wanted to somehow make up for his past misdeeds, but saving one family hardly made up for enslaving others.

"I apologies, I was just making small talk."

Magoza stared at the fire. "I don't feel like talking."

"I understand."

"Good, because I wasn't about to explain why I don't want to talk to you." she snapped.

"I see that you are already starting to place the blame of their disappearance on me."

Magoza looked over at him. "Look, I'm sorry for being a bit short with my temper, but things were starting to look up for me, and now they've." she paused, turning her attention back to the fire, tears starting to well up in her eyes. "I might never see them again. The same as those I left behind in Skyrim."

"Skyrim?" Hides questioned.

"Just forget it."

"It is forgotten."

"No it's not, you're just saying that."

"What do you want from me?" he asked her. "I am trying to be patient with you, but if you don't start showing me at least some respect, then you might find yourself on your own."

She looked over at him, feeling angered by his hollow threat. "What happened to finding redemption for your past?"

He looked away without answering.

"Did I hit a nerve?" she asked.

"I do not wish to discuss this." he told her. "I left that life behind me and I want to move on." he said regretfully.

Magoza looked into the lapping flames of the fire, feeling slightly ashamed of what she had said to him, of how she had treated him. She had been through a lot in the past few months, and she felt as though it was all starting to catch her up.

"Look, I'm sorry." she offered finally, her gaze turning from the fire to him.

"Let us eat and sleep." Hides said to her. "Then tomorrow we will continue on to Narsis City."

"That sounds good." Magoza agreed. She just hoped that the Argonian's contacts were still there. If he had contacts of course, and he wasn't lying about it. Even if he was telling the truth, if his contacts were no longer there, then she knew getting her friends back would be very difficult, or even near impossible.

Magoza looked at Hides-In-Trees as he retracted the stick from over the fire, and pulled the meat off of it, tearing it in two with his hands. He offered half to her.

"Thank you." she said.

Sinking her teeth into the cooked flesh made her realise just how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten much at all today, her mind had been far too preoccupied with the loss of the Karo's. Even now, she wanted to be off in search of Narsis City. But knew she needed not only the food, but to get some rest and more importantly some sleep.

After consuming all of it, including the fatty parts, she laid down on the dirt to get some sleep.

"We can go in one of the houses if you want?" Hides suggested to her. "Might be better than the dirt."

Magoza slowly clambered to her feet, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Hides stood up and walked over to the small village well. He retrieved some water before extinguishing the fire with it. He then lead her to the nearest house, where they found the door unlocked.

Inside it was mostly empty with only a few things left behind, which included a bed. Unfortunately they were bare, the wooden slats exposed with nothing to cover them.

She walked over to some old hay in the corner and laid in it. To her surprise it was quite comfortable, if a bit smelly and spiky in places. Soon though, she was fast asleep while Hides sat on a chair by the window, staring out into the darkness beyond.

* * *

Despite the complete darkness that surrounded him, Rontag felt as though he was spinning wildly, as if his body was hurtling through the air somehow. Whatever was happening it was starting to make him feel quite queasy.

Rontag had been in this blackness for quite sometime, and he had no idea how he had got here. Was he spiralling towards Aetherius and Sovngarde? Or was this what it felt like to be soul-trapped? Perhaps he was on his way to Oblivion?

He hoped that it wasn't the last two, but he also wasn't particularly keen on the first notion either. Not yet anyway. While he did want to one day want to go to the mead halls of Shor, he didn't feel it was yet his time, that he had not proven himself to be worthy.

Suddenly he squinted as he caught a glimpse of something. He couldn't quite make it out. For a moment he thought he saw the rising of the sun over a distant horizon, but it had come and gone so quickly that he couldn't be sure.

Fatigue began to wash over him. The sensation of spinning began to fade as his thoughts died down, and once again, his unconscious mind was at rest.


	12. DaggerintheWindCh11

**Chapter XI**

Just before the break of dawn, Rasha had awoken and promptly made her way into the main room of the Nightgate Inn, making sure she didn't wake Faldan who slept in the bed on the opposite side of the open room. The owner Hadring was nowhere to be seen, which she expected considering what time it was.

She walked over to the large rectangular fire-pit and stared at the flames as they flickered, giving off smoke that settled high in the rafters. All around her, the scarce furniture gave off strange shadows in the firelight and a sense of tranquillity washed over her.

It was rare that she felt as though she had the time or the privacy to just stand in silence taking in her surroundings, but here she was. It wasn't like standing on a hillside in Cyrodiil, overlooking the forests and meadows, but it was probably be the best she'd get up here in the frozen lands of Northern Skyrim.

"What are you doing up at this time?"

Rasha nearly jumped out of her fur at the sound of the innkeeper's voice right behind her.

"I didn't scare you did I?" Hadring asked with a chuckle as she spun around.

"Don't sneak up on people!" she sputtered.

"Nah, it's fun. Did it a couple of time to a fellow by the name of Fultheim, but he was often too drunk to react. He's gone now, in search of a brewery or something, but he'll come back, he always does."

She moved over to a table and sat down. "Me and Faldan will be moving on in a little while." she told the innkeeper.

"The two Imperials already have, earlier this morning. Were on their way from Dawnstar to Riften I think." He moved over to the bar "Looks like I'll be on my own for a while."

Rasha turned to face him. "Not worried about it?" she asked. "Folks see one man on his own, they might take advantage."

"Nah, nobody bothers me because they know I've barely got anything worth taking. 'Cept the mead of course."

"Speaking of which, there were some bandits setting up a trap on the road south of here. Half-way between here and the wood mill."

"Don't worry, they don't usually come up this far."

"Usually doesn't mean never."

"I have no worries."

"If you say so."

"I do. Anyway, enough of that. Will you be having anything to eat or drink before you go?"

"Probably, I'll just wait till Faldan is awake."

"Okay."

Rasha didn't have to wait long, as a few moments later he appeared from out of the side room, with a long yawn and a stretch. He looked over at them, with his dark brown eyes.

"Good morning!" Hadring greeted loudly.

"You two up already?" the Bosmer asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Yes." Rasha replied. "We'll be setting off in a half-hour or so."

"Bit early isn't it?" he said to her. "Couldn't we wait till after lunch?"

"I want to get the upcoming journey over with." she told him firmly. "I don't want nightfall coming while we're walking up there. I've had enough of the freezing weather, and nights up here get stupidly cold."

Hadring smiled. "Well the road to Winterhold from here is pretty much straight. Not a lot of anything. Might run into a bear or a pack of wolves, and on a rare occasion, a sabre cat. Other than that though, if you keep up a brisk pace you might get there by evening."

Rasha glanced at Faldan, remembering back to the wood mill, and how he had offered to help. Much to her annoyance. "No towns or mills or anything between us and Winterhold is there?"

"No." Hadring said. "Nothing till Winterhold."

"Good, because my companion here likes to stop at places like that."

"Hey, we'd been walking for hours and I was tired." Faldan said defensively. "I offered work in exchange for a place to rest for a few hours."

"You're also an incredibly slow walker." she added. "It takes forever to go anywhere with you."

"I don't walk slow."

"No, it only took us two days to get here from Windhelm."

"That wasn't my fault. Bandits were on that ridge."

"But would they have been if we hadn't stopped at that mill for several hours?"

Hadring laughed out loud. "You two argue like a married couple." he joked.

Faldan stared at him open mouthed. "No, not at all." he stammered. "We aren't, no, not anything like that, never."

Rasha noticed the Bosmer go slightly red in the face. _Is he blushing_? She wondered before quickly dismissing the notion. He was probably insulted by the innkeeper's comment, she knew she was.

Rasha gestured Faldan over to the table before addressing Hadring. "We'll want some breakfast. Nothing too harsh on the stomach. Maybe some bread and stew or something."

"Considering you might be the only paying customers in a while, you can have a good lot of stew. The stuff only keeps for so long, and I certainly can't eat it all before it goes bad."

"Thank you, it's appreciated." Rasha said with gratitude.

Soon they had eaten and were heading out the door into the frozen wasteland beyond. The road to Winterhold would be long. Especially with mister snail feet beside her.

* * *

Magoza was shaken awake by the Argonian, Hides-In-Trees. She shouted out in shock after opening her eyes to the sight of his lizard-like face staring at her. She quickly settled down as she gathered her wits, and he informed her that it was time to leave.

She gathered the ebony bow-weapon, and the large knapsack, before they both left the house. Hides lead the way out of the village, out into the wilderness beyond.

"Aren't we having anything to eat before we set off?" Magoza asked him.

"No, we head straight to Narsis. No stops."

The young Orsimer decided not to argue the matter. He was helping her after-all, and she dare not push her luck. Especially after the way she had acted last night.

While she still didn't fully trust him, she had decided to give him free-reign to lead, and to at least show him some respect, even if she didn't really think he deserved it. Not after revealing to her that he had actually once been a slaver.

As they briskly stepped back onto the main road, Magoza watched him. He faced forward with what appeared to be a frown, his fierce demeanour concentrating on nothing but what was ahead of them.

With a deep breath, she asked him a question, hoping he would give some clarification in response. "You said before that you weren't welcome in Narsis City. What did you mean?"

He glared at her, his small eyes squinting. "I mean the guards will be suspicious of me if they recognise me, and old friends on both sides will most likely be hostile towards me if they see me."

"Both sides?"

"The friends I had before I joined Talen and his 'business', and those that I knew during my employment."

"Sounds to me like it'd be easier if you didn't come along."

"No." he disagreed. "You don't know who to talk too. I do. Even if they won't be best pleased to see me. Besides I've been away for several months, hiding out in Mournhold."

"But how would they know what's going on?" she asked him. "How would anyone outside of this Talen's slave trade business know anything?"

"Because the people I know make it their business. They are secretly going through the motions to get the whole practice outlawed. They see the current slave-trade as a spit in the face to all of our ancestors who had to endure it."

Magoza looked ahead, down the long road. The oddly shaped trees at the sides, reaching seemingly as far as the horizon. "How far is it from here?" she asked him.

"Not far. We just have to walk fast."

"How fast?"

"Faster than we are now."

"I can't walk much faster."

"Than you might have to jog then."

She didn't complain, she just tried to keep up as the Argonian increased his pace. Already she could tell that it was going to be a long walk to Narsis City.

* * *

Rasha and Faldan were cold, their knees ached from it, their faces were numb, and their tempers were starting to get short. With a shove, to get him to go faster, the Ohmes-Raht let out a disgruntled sigh.

"Come on, Bosmer!" she yelled in exasperation. "It took us two days to travel a distance that should have taken no more than six or seven hours, I don't want it to take two days to go the rest of the way!"

"It wasn't my fault." he said. "It was those bandits."

"And you insisting we help those mill workers so you could have a rest." she shook her head. "I still can't figure that one out. Working to rest. It doesn't make sense."

"I wanted somewhere that wasn't out in the cold." he explained. "A little work for a nice warm place to get some shut-eye doesn't seem odd to me."

"Well unless you hurry, we'll be spending the night in this weather. Now stop walking so damned slow and start moving!"

"Okay, calm yourself."

"I will once you start walking faster."

"I'm walking as fast as I can." he complained.

Rasha sped up her pace. "Fine, I'll meet you in Winterhold."

"Hey, wait!" Faldan shouted after her, as he began to walk faster in an attempt to keep up.

She began to walk even faster, forcing Faldan to break into a slow jog.

She looked over at him, as he struggled to keep pace with her. "See, you can move faster." She smiled as she looked back ahead. "At this pace we should make Winterhold in good time."

"Can we slow down a bit?" Faldan asked her. "This is too fast."

"No." was her response. "Not until your legs are screaming for you to slow down."

"Why you being like this?" Faldan questioned, beginning to regret coming along with her. "I should have stayed in Windhelm." he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that." she warned. "Besides, I just want to get there. See what her story is."

"You mean Tam?" he asked, as he began to pant.

She frowned as she looked over at him, continuing her brisk pace. "Of course I mean Tam! Who else could I be possibly talking about!?"

"I don't know, there may be a third contract you haven't told me about."

"Yes, I have fifty-seven contracts in Winterhold." she told him sarcastically.

Faldan came to a halt, forcing Rasha to stop also. She turned around, placing her hands on her hips. An angry frown furrowed her features.

"What is it now!?" she demanded.

The Bosmer folded his arms. "You don't respect me." he said. "You think I'm a joke."

"No I don't respect you!" she shouted back. "You know why? Because all you've done since we left Windhelm, is make everything a thousand times harder than it needs to be!"

"You're pushing me too hard!" he complained.

"All we're doing is moving from one city to another. We're not diving into a Ayleid ruin, or whatever ruins they have up here! I'd like to get there before night comes and the temperature falls any more." She pointed her long sharp index finger at him. "If you haven't noticed, It's colder than a Thalmor's heart up here, and I want to get to this forsaken city and get indoors!"

Faldan began moving again, albeit slowly.

"Faster, or I _will _leave you behind." she threatened.

"Fine!" he said, picking up his pace, shoving past her.

She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, her nails digging into his flesh. "You push past me like that again, and I may just finish your part of the contract after-all."

All the colour in Faldan's face drained out of it, his mouth dropping open. He nodded slowly.

"I see you understand."

"Yes, I'm sorry." he apologised. "I got upset."

She clenched her jaw before letting out a long, regretful sigh. She knew she shouldn't have said that too him, but her anger was starting to get the best of her. She wasn't built for the cold, and it was starting to make her very bones ache.

Rasha looked ahead. "Look, let's just get to the city of Winterhold as quickly as we can."

Faldan agreed, as they both continued quickly on in silence, towards the city.

* * *

"Stay here, I will be back in perhaps an hour or so." Hides-In-Trees told Magoza, as they stood around an imperial mile distant from Narsis City. The two of them were in the openness of the Deshaan Plain, a large area of grasslands and fertile soil that sloped downhill to the south towards the swamps of Argonia, or Black Marsh as it was also known. He moved off in an effort to gauge if he could see if there was any entry point that they could take, without being seen, or rousing suspicion.

From what she had heard from Hides, the city's mainly Argonian population was actually quite small. The only other races that lived there consisted of a few Khajiit traders and some families of Altmer that had fled from the Summerset Isles to escape the Thalmor.

Hides had explained as they walked, that the initial invasion force was fuelled by sap from some magic tree called the Hist. The sap was originally intended to aid the Argonians in fending off the Daedra in the Oblivion Crisis, but once the crisis was over, they turned their attention onto the Dunmer, who had enslaved members of their race for centuries.

It was house Redoran that had managed to stop the advance and then push them back. It wasn't long till most Argonians had returned to Black Marsh, their homeland. Some stayed in Narsis City, however half of them managed to successfully evacuate when reports of the terrors of a floating city of death was making its way up through Black Marsh up towards Morrowind.

Hides-In-Trees had also made further references to the Hist trees. Whatever they were, they seemed important to the Argonians. The reference he made was how All Argonians felt the presence of the floating Island through the Hist. Some felt the danger, while most were drawn to it. From what she was told, the Island of death did far more damage to the Argonian State than they would reveal to anyone, even their own people.

It seemed almost like fantasy to her, but there was something in the way that Hides told it that suggested to her that it might be true.

The Orsimer turned her thoughts to Narsis in the distance. From the looks of the city itself, it looked much like Mournhold in its design and strangeness. Not at all like anything in Skyrim, or from what she had seen of the city of Jehanna in High Rock. She thought back to the Karo farmhouse. It had been a far simpler design, made from stone and wood.

She looked around. She could see what appeared to be farms, but most, if not all seemed to be long derelict.

She looked ahead to see if she could see Hides, but found he was no longer in sight. He told her to wait an hour, so that's what she would do.

She just hoped it wasn't too late, and that she would be able to save her friends, and Brendarr.

Then it hit her. She didn't actually know if it was this Talen that had actually been behind their disappearance. She had been lead here on the word of an Argonian who had himself revealed. In fact she didn't even know if Hides was even a _he_. He was one of few Argonians she had ever seen, let alone spoken to.

She had laid eyes on a few when she had been out with her mother finding herbs for the stronghold's Wise Woman back in High Rock. Sometimes they were even friendly, and not out to rob them of valuables they didn't even have on them. Of course the thieves were cut down by her mother, and the ones that had been friendly usually ended up being verbally cut down by her.

Magoza had never understood the odd reaction her fellow Orcs had for outsiders. It had always seemed rather harsh and unwelcoming. They were always so concerned about following the rules of Malacath, and deemed everything else as unimportant.

Which made the eventual violent turn of the chief all the more troubling. How he had broken the tenets of Malacath and brought shame upon himself by needlessly slaughtering those in the stronghold. As to why he did it, she would now never know. he was long gone, perhaps even dead. She could only hope that he was.

The young orsimer pushed the thoughts out of her mind. The memories of home always brought her pain and regret. The Orc no longer wanted to feel the anguish, but recently it seemed that no matter where she went, it would follow her.

An hour or so later, Hides returned and they both headed south-westerly around the city. He told her that they would be entering from the east as that was away from the most inhabited part of the city, giving them easier access to the city.

Magoza didn't question his logic, she just wanted all of this to be over, and for her and the Karo's to be back at the farm. But she wondered if that would ever be possible, or if she was simply chasing hope where none existed.


	13. DaggerintheWindCh12

**Chapter XII**

Strange, distant and incomprehensible voices echoed in Rontag's head. He still had no idea where he was, only that this time he caught glimpses of a beach, and what appeared to be a fancy looking ship in a dry-dock. He then caught sight of a cabin, or small house. Then it faded from view, replaced by an eternal darkness.

Then he saw the sky slowly grow bright from the darkness. The sun was setting and the large moon Masser, was rising.

None of it made sense. He couldn't quite recall where he was, or how he had gotten here. All he knew was that nothing seemed solid, and everything appeared to be constantly shifting.

He felt something grip his hand. He looked down to see another hand in his. Glancing upwards he saw an echo of Valerie as she faded away into the blackness.

"Val!?" he shouted. "Valerie!" There was no response to his cry, only darkness and a deafening silence.

* * *

Winterhold was a cold city, or rather it was a cold village masquerading as a city. Rasha and Faldan had finally arrived in the early evening and were slowly making their way down the small snowy street, looking for an inn. There they would simply sit and wait, while Rasha observed every patron and listened intently to every conversation, picking out anything that could possibly be of importance.

Upon entering the easily found inn, aptly called the Frozen Hearth, they found it practically empty. So much so in fact that the two of them stood out because of it.

"I haven't seen you two before." a tall dark haired Nord woman said, from where she stood behind the bar.

The only other patron looked around, scowled at them before turning back to his drink.

Faldan glanced warily at Rasha, waiting for her to say something. "We're just passing through." the Khajiit said, before realising that they couldn't possibly be passing through to anywhere.

"You're not going to that college?" the Nord asked disdainfully. "You want to be keeping clear of that place, even if you are elves." the Nord stared at Rasha for a moment, before looking at Faldan. "Or at least he is." she then gestured at her "What in Talos' name are you supposed to be?"

"I'm a Khajiit." Rasha informed her.

"Never seen a cat like you before."

"I'm an Ohmes-Raht."

"Is that what they call Khajiits who're half elf or something?"

"I'm not half elf!" Rasha scoffed, annoyed at the false and rather insulting insinuation. "Khajiit breeds are determined by the moons and their phase." she explained, hoping she could educate at least one ignorant Nord. "In native Khajiit, it's called the 'ja'Kha'jay', or the 'Lunar Lattice'. Khajiit are bound to the moons. Similar to what some books say about how the Ancient Snow Elves were bound to the sky."

"That's nice." the Nord woman said with clear disinterest. "Well whatever you are, I suggest you keep clear of that college. If you know what's good for you that is."

"We're going there to learn the art of restoration." Faldan said suddenly.

The innkeeper began wiping down the bar with a cloth, her judging gaze looking down at what she was doing. "I suppose that's a noble goal." the Nord replied, seeming suddenly disinterested. "But I suggest you go to Whiterun and find the temple healers there."

"Perhaps we will." Faldan replied, glancing at Rasha to gauge whether she looked angry or not. She didn't appear to be on the outside, but he still remembered all too well how she had threatened to kill him on the road up here.

The two steadily made their way over to a table and sat down on the bench.

Rasha leaned over to Faldan. "What made you say that?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "I'm not mad or anything, I'd just like to know?"

Faldan cleared his throat. Making sure he kept his voice low, he responded. "Well, from my short time in Windhelm, it became quite obvious that the Nords there liked healers, so I just said it to try and get her off our backs."

"You do realise now that we'll have to probably go to the college, or else we'll look suspicious?" she whispered.

"I didn't think of that."

She webbed her lithe fingers. "Well it's too late now. We'll stay here for the rest of the day and see if we can find out anything on the whereabouts of this Tam. Tomorrow we'll take a look at this college. Perhaps we can learn something there. Maybe she _is _there."

"Do you have any magical ability?" Faldan asked. "I hear they won't let you in unless you have some."

"Nothing much really. Know some basic spells such as Oakflesh, and an increase stamina spell for when I need to escape from something."

"Did you cast that in Windhelm?" he asked her. "Y'know, to get away from the guards?"

"No." Rasha said. "Didn't feel I had the time, and spells usually draw attention with the glow, especially at night." she then sighed aloud. A feeling of idiocy washed over her. "Actually that's a lie, it was because I totally forgot about it."

"There are a couple of times I could have done with a good stamina spell." Faldan said to her, before adding under his breath. "Like with the ladies."

Rasha shook her head as a small smile crossed her lips. Her sensitive ears had easily picked up what he had said under his breath.

"You didn't hear that did you?" Faldan asked, his face turning bright red.

"I'm a Khajiit." she pointed out. "I hear a lot of things, and can smell a lot of things. Not as well as other breeds, but still better than either man or mer."

"I'll remember that."

"I also know a better hearing spell." Rasha said "So don't think too loudly."

Faldan's eyes went wide. "You can hear _thoughts_?" he asked her in shock.

"No, it was a joke." she said, stifling a laugh.

"Oh." he said, feeling foolish. He went quiet for a moment, before asking. "Are there spells that allow people to hear your thoughts?"

"No idea. I don't think so."

The Bosmer shuddered. "I don't like the thought of someone looking into my mind and seeing what I think."

"Can't say I do either."

"Think someone at the college has that power?" he asked deeply concerned.

"I have no idea if that power even exists, so I doubt it."

"But imagine if they did, like the Archmage or something. You could never get away with anything because he'd always know if you were lying."

"You don't need to be able to read minds to figure out if someone is lying or not." Rasha said.

"What do you mean?"

"Posture, expression. Eye-contact, or lack of. It all adds up to tell a story."

"You can do that?" he asked her in concern. "Have you been doing that to me?"

"What, reading you by your body language? I do that with everyone, so yes."

"What am I thinking?" he asked her.

She chuckled. "I can't read your mind, you idiot. I can see how you feel, to a degree at least, or tell if what you say is a lie. I cannot figure out what you are thinking about, that's Sheogorath levels of crazy."

"You shouldn't use a Daedric Lord's name like that, it's bad luck."

"You're right Faldan, it was an insult to the Prince of Madness. No one can possibly be as mad as him."

"Not what I meant." he said, feeling a shudder go down his spine. "Don't use his name, or any of their names. They're dangerous."

She shook her head with a smile. "You're not one of those who believes that if you stare at your own reflection in a calm lake and say a Daedra's name three times, that you'll be struck down are you?"

"Better to be safe then to not be."

"I suppose." she said, not fully understanding his fear. "Mind if I call him Sheggorath instead?" Rasha teased. "How about The Skooma Cat?"

Faldan shook his head. "Please don't. Especially not with that one. I read a book that said he once made a musical instrument out of a woman's bones and intestines."

"Yes, I know. I read that book too, or at least something similar."

"I don't want anything like that to happen to me, so can we not talk about them."

"If you say so."

"I do." Faldan said

"Fine." Rasha accepted.

Faldan looked around the almost deserted inn. "No sign of Tam yet." he whispered.

"Be patient." she replied.

Rasha rose up from the stool. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked him.

"Just some cheap brandy or something."

"Anything to eat?"

"Yeah I do, not fussed what it is though."

The Khajiit walked over to the bar. The Nord innkeeper looked at her with a frown. "What is it?" she asked with a slight sneer.

"Do you have any cheap brandy or anything?"

"We've got nothing but the cheap stuff here." the Nord responded. "'Course we don't sell it cheap, but where you gonna go to get better eh?" She then chuckled aloud.

"Well I want two of your cheapest drinks and two of your cheapest meals."

"Sure."

A few minutes later, both Faldan and Rasha were quietly eating their meal, and enjoying their drinks.

* * *

Narsis was a strange city. While there were clear Dunmer influences, it also had more recent looking constructs that looked even more foreign in their Argonian design.

Magoza Hides-In-Trees had been in the city for around three hours or so. Hides was looking for some particular people who could help them, but it seemed they were no longer there.

"You sure they're still here?" Magoza asked him. "We've been meandering for the past half hour."

"No." he responded angrily. "It seems they are not."

"What do we do?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned around and began to head the other way. Magoza followed closely, unsure where they were going.

"Are we off somewhere?" the young Orsimer asked him as they turned down yet another street.

"One last lead, that may or may not still be here."

"Who?"

"Someone I don't want to talk to."

"More than the others?" she asked him.

"Yes, more than the others."

"And who's that?"

"My brother."

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

"None of your business!" he said angrily.

"Okay then, sorry for asking." Magoza said defensively.

After a few minutes of walking, they stopped outside an old Dunmeri style of building. Hides told her to wait outside on the other side of the street, as he made his way up a flight of stairs, and knocked on the door.

A few moments later the door opened, followed by what appeared to be a heated discussion, which lasted for several minutes. Then Hides-In-Trees went inside, the door closing behind him.

Magoza stood there, leant against a lantern post, listening to the wind and the sounds of the city. It seemed such a long time since she had just stood and listened, since she had really stopped and felt the breeze on her face. She knew it had only been four or so hours since she had last stopped and been able to be alone with her thoughts, but running around the city, while trying to keep out of direct sight of the guards had been quite exhausting.

She didn't know how long she had been stood there when she heard an Argonian shout, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Hey Dark Elf!"

She quickly looked around. Was there Dunmer around? Could it be that the Karo's were nearby?

After studying her surroundings, all she saw was a small group of young looking Argonians staring at her.

"You, I speaking to Dark Elf!"

"What?" she asked, confused by his odd sentence. Was he saying she was a Dark Elf? Or was he telling her to mind her own business, and that he was speaking to one.

"We speaking to _you_ Dark Elf!" the leader of the group said to her.

"I'm an Orc." she corrected.

"Do not lie!" the leader said.

"Do not lie to him." the one to the leader's left said.

"No, I'm definitely an Orsimer." she told them. "Bit of Altmer blood in me, but no Dunmer."

"We have been told of you and your ugly faces." the leader said. "We know Dark Elf when we see one."

"I'm an Orc, not a Dark Elf."

"He said not to lie!" the one on the right said.

Magoza felt annoyance begin to rise inside her. She knew that the Dunmer were hated here, and they were using that as an excuse to bully her.

"You are Dark Elf!" the leader said pointing. "You know what we do to Dark Elf!"

"Dark Elves have grey or grey-blue skin. I have green skin." she told them. "Dark Elves have red eyes. I have green eyes."

The one on the left looked at the leader. "Is that true?"

"You not Argonian." the leader said. "That makes you Dark Elf!"

"That's the worst excuse I've ever heard to harass someone!" she said angrily. "Now go away, I am waiting for someone."

"We not go away!" the leader told her. "We hurt Dark Elf."

Magoza prepared herself. She had no interest in hurting them, as they had so callously threatened to do to her. The Orc decided a more measured, but firm approach might be needed. But what? A firebolt would be too much in this case, and casting an armour spell wouldn't scare them off. Maybe a blast of ice to chill their scales?

Suddenly, she remembered something. Two months ago, she had used a telekinetic force to throw people down, using the clothes they wore as a push-off point, or at least she assumed that was what had happened. She had done it because the two, Valerie and Tam, had been fighting. She had wanted them to stop, simply wanted it all to stop. Now, it looked like she might get the chance to use it again. If only she could remember how she had done it in the first place. She couldn't remember reading any tomes on telekinesis and hadn't read any scrolls. She pushed it out of her mind, focusing on the memory of using it. How she had felt, how she had wanted the two fighting to just stop.

The leader looked at his two comrades. "Let us remove rubbish from our street, and get fancy bow off back." he said, referencing the strange bow-like contraption she wore.

With little time for thought, she held out her hands in front of her, focusing on the dark brown tunics they each wore. With the spell forming in her mind, she pushed at them hard. The three of them crashed onto the street with a yelp.

The leader clambered back to his feet, teeth bared. He turned to see his friends run away.

"Leave me alone!" Magoza yelled at him.

"I get guards to kill you!" He turned and quickly ran off.

The young Orc headed across the street and up the stairs towards the house in which Hides-In-Trees had entered. After a moments pause, she built up some courage and knocked on the door, hard.

A few moments passed before the door opened. An Argonian who she didn't recognise stood there, staring down at her.

"Erm, hello." she said.

"You Orc my brother speaks of?"

"Yes."

"Come in then, we were just speaking of you."

She entered the house, the door closing behind her.

Upon entering the main room, which was sparsely decorated, she saw Hides looking over at her with a frown.

"I thought I told you to wait?"

"Some bullies harassed me."

"Well, never mind that. I learned that your friends will be being moved in two full days."

"How did you find that out?" she asked, feeling hope begin to rise inside her.

Hides' brother walked over to a stool and sat down on it, his tail hanging off the back. "I keep head to ground." he said. "Heard that Talen had a family. Was selling them as unit."

"Where are they being moved to!?" she questioned, almost demanded.

"Argonia." Hides told her. "To Helstrom."

"Ancestors would feel shame." the brother said. "Slavery is what some went through. Never should anyone be slaves."

Magoza realised just how good Hides' Cyrodilic was. He spoke very well, but the others here hadn't. She would have to ask him about it sometime.

"We have two days to prepare." Hides said.

"What is the plan?" she asked.

"Attack as they being moved." the brother told her. "But when they far from city." He looked at Hides. "Brother good at tracking, even if not good at choosing job. Can shoot arrow good."

"Yes." Hides agreed. "My brother here is not so good at ranged or close up." he looked over at Magoza. "Can you use your crossbow?"

"My what?" she asked.

"That weapon on your back. It's called a crossbow."

"Oh."

Hides seemed to smile. "Well in any case, my brother has agreed to not only help us, but to let us stay here."

"That's kind of you." Magoza said to him.

"I do, as it is right. The Hist do not care of this matter, but I feel that it is right thing to do."

Magoza still had no idea what a Hist was exactly, but decided to simply smile and nod out of courtesy.

For now, the Karo's would have to stay where they were in captivity. But Magoza would do everything in her power to free them when the time came.

* * *

The day had been hard, and dehumanising for the Karo family.

At dawn, they had been awoken and led out into the yard. They had then all been forced to strip naked while cold buckets of water were thrown at them.

Then after they had been 'cleaned' to get the 'horrible soft-skin stench' off of them, they were told to redress. They were then taken into the basement, where they were to be trained on how they were to behave.

While Darovin and Llandri had kept their mouths shut, their son Brendarr had spoken out and cursed the teacher. For his insolence, he had been savagely beaten before being forced to stand naked in the main hallway, in full view of everyone that entered the large Dumneri-style home. Be it those that lived there, or visitors looking to speak with the lord of Narsis, Talen.

Most looked at him with disgust, while only a few seemed to look at him with pity. No matter how they saw him, none of them so much as spoke to him, or paid him more than a single stare at first sight.

The whole ordeal was to teach him a lesson, and he knew it. He also knew that it worked. He felt embarrassment, he felt a deep shame. All he wanted was for someone to strike him down and end the torment.

After what seemed like an eternity, he had to undergo a short class on what was expected of him. If he didn't do what was expected, then he would be killed. It was as simple as that.

Brendarr was then allowed to redress, meeting up again with his parents. With only a small serving of old broth and some stale bread, they were thrown back into their cage.

That night, Darovin and Llandri pleaded with their son to try and behave. To accept that at least for now, they were stuck here.

Brendarr knew they would escape, and when they did, he would seek out Magoza. He was absolutely sure that she was the one that was behind this, and take her life. In his eyes she deserved it.


	14. DaggerintheWindCh13

**CHAPTER XIII**

Darkness was all around him. It blanketed him, felt as though it was pressing against his eyes, the deafening silence forcing its way into his ears. A sickening feeling of vertigo struck him, as if he were in a constant fall, spiralling out of control.

In the distance, he saw flashes of someone. He didn't recognize them, or at least he didn't think he did.

Slowly the darkness began to give way to an image. All around him, sky, sand and sea coalesced into an image so real, that he thought he could feel the breeze, and smell the salt of the sea. He could even hear the seagulls as they flew overhead in the sky.

The Nord began to walk forwards on the beach. The sand felt warm beneath his feet, the breeze felt soft and cooling against his skin. He looked down to see he was dressed in a brown tunic and burlap pants. His feet were bare, allowing the sand to move freely in between his toes.

He turned his gaze back up, to see an old man with pure white hair ahead of him, standing on the shore-side, looking across at a large ship sat in an Imperial style dry-dock.

Rontag began to move slowly towards the stranger, wondering who he was, and why he himself was here, in this most foreign place.

As he approached, the old man turned to him with a wide smile. He was a Cyrodilic man, who looked to be near the end of his life.

"Who are you?" Rontag asked him, continuing to move steadily onward..

The old man's thick eyebrows raised in surprise. "You are speaking to me?"

Rontag halted, confused by his reaction. "You're the only one here." he pointed out. "And I was looking right at you when I said it."

"I suppose I am, and you were." the old man agreed. "Though my visions have never spoken directly to me before."

"What do you mean?" Rontag questioned. "Your visions, what visions?"

"My dreams of you, your wife and Magoza. Of Taemwyn, and the Khajiit that is looking for her."

"A Khajiit is looking for the elf?"

"She's in Winterhold right now."

"Why?"

"She was contracted to kill her, but has decided against it."

"Contracted, by who?"

"The Thalmor."

"They know we're in Winterhold?"

"Of course, but they are only interested in the elf right now. Before long however, if not already, the Khajiit and her new friend will also be within the sights of their foul gaze."

"What else do your 'dreams' tell you?"

"I feel that I cannot say much more. Just know that Meratur, Magoza's father will be in danger soon, regarding the Vigilants of Stendarr."

"Why?"

"Because of the General."

"What General?"

"I do not know yet, my visions are not always clear."

"You aren't making sense." Rontag said, feeling confused by the whole ordeal.

The old man smiled softly. "Perhaps not, but know this also. Magoza is alive."

The world around Rontag suddenly began to spiral back into darkness. Whether it was because of the sudden shock of what the old man had said, or something else entirely, he had no clue. All he knew was that everything was once again fading away.

The old man raised his tired voice, breaking though the darkness that enclosed the Nord. "You must seek Malthar in Jehanna!"

"What!?" Rontag shouted back, his voice echoing in the dark. "Does this Malthar know where the Orc girl is?"

"Go to Jehanna and find Malthar!"

* * *

Rontag's eyes snapped open to a painful headache, and a weak body. He looked down at his left hand to find another in it. He turned to see his wife, Valerie slumped in a chair by his bedside, her breathing steady as she dozed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but found his throat parched and the words failed to emerge. He began coughing violently, his wife awaking with a start.

"Rontag!?" she yelled.

His coughing quickly died down. He looked up at her face, her features filled with deep concern and worry. She squeezed his hand in hers.

"I'm alright." he wheezed. "Just a little dry."

"Dry?" she asked, seemingly confused.

"I need some water or something." he clarified. "I'm thirsty."

Valerie shook her head quickly, breaking out of whatever trance she had been in. "Water, of course." she turned her head and shouted. "Tam, are you through there. I need water, Rontag's awake!"

Moments later, Tam stepped beside him with a wooden beaker, filled with some kind of liquid, which she promptly passed to Valerie.

"What is it?" Valerie asked.

"Something that will quench his thirst, and help bring back his strength." Tam responded. "At least some of it."

Valerie helped Rontag into a sitting position, before bringing the liquid to his mouth. He raised his hand to try and take the beaker off her, but she shook her head. He lowered his hand and allowed her to feed it to him, taking a small sip.

He began coughing once more. "That is wretched!" he exclaimed in disgust. "What is it?"

"A potion." Tam told him. "Something that Jo'Agro made up for you."

"The Khajiit mage?" Rontag asked. "I don't want anything from-" He stopped himself from saying any more, deciding not to be confrontational barely a few moments after waking.

"It's not poison." Tam said, trying to ease his misgivings.

Rontag took the beaker off his wife and took another sip, his face creasing with revulsion.

"I guess he believes you." Valerie said with a smile.

"There's a Khajiit in the city." Rontag said to Tam.

"I know, he constructed this potion." Tam said.

"No, I mean another Khajiit. She is looking for you."

Tam's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I saw it in my dream. The Thalmor."

"That's not funny!" Tam snapped.

Valerie raised her hands up to the Altmer in a disarming manner. "Please Tam, he's only just woken up, he might have been dreaming."

"I'm not joking, and it was more than a dream!" Rontag said adamantly, before he began to cough again.

Valerie took the beaker away from him before he spilled it, allowing him to sip some more once he had calmed down.

Rontag continued. "An Imperial spoke to me. He told me that she was to kill you, but changed her mind. He said to meet a man named something, in Jehanna. I cannot remember his name, it's fading away so fast."

Tam folded her arms. "You saw this in a dream?" she asked sceptically.

"Yes I did." he confirmed, before looking at Valerie. "He said." he shook his head and looked down. "He said that Magoza was still alive."

Valerie's jaw went slack. "What?" she asked in shock.

"That's not funny." Tam warned him.

He glared across at her. "Go into the city. Find the Khajiit that seeks you."

Valerie looked across at the Altmer, her mouth agape, before turning back to her husband. The two women stared at him for a few moments in silence.

Tam shrugged. "I guess I'll go check it out." The Altmer promptly turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. "Glad you're awake." She walked out of the building, on her way to the city below to see whether Rontag's delusion was real or not.

She was absolutely certain it was simply the imaginations of a sleeping mind, and nothing more.

* * *

Rasha had awoken that morning to find that Faldan had gone for a walk. She waited till he returned, and when he did he told her that he hadn't so much seen any sign of Tam whatsoever.

It was decided that after they had eaten, they would both go to the college, and inquire there. Due to the fact that her goal was no longer killing the Altmer, she could be far more direct in her approach.

The Ohmes-Raht still wondered how much she should reveal to Taemwyn when they finally found her, and how much she should keep hidden.

She guessed that telling Tam that she had been contracted to murder her, wouldn't be a good thing to tell the Altmer upon their first meeting. Instead she would have to be vague, she would have to think of some way to reach out to her, without her becoming suspicious.

They were both sat at one of the old wooden tables, their backs to the fire, eating some stew, when the front door opened.

Rasha casually looked around seeing an impossibly tall Altmer woman stood at the entrance. The newcomer's eyes locked onto hers, and her eyes widened just a little. It was obviously the Thalmor's intended target, and she seemed to know that something was up.

The tall Altmer began to slowly walk over to her cautiously. It seemed she was unaware that Faldan was sat right beside the Khajiit. That didn't last long however. Tam's eyes drifted to the now shaking mer, and her mouth went slack.

"Faldan?" she asked.

"She's going to kill me!" Faldan whispered with shaky breath.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him before looking back to Rasha. The Altmer pointed. "Rontag said you'd be here, and that you were looking for me."

The Khajiit's blood ran cold. Someone had known they were looking for her? But how?

"He told me that you were hired by the Thalmor!" she accused.

"We're dead!" Faldan whimpered.

Tam glared at him. "What do you mean!?" she asked, anger rising in her voice.

The Bosmer began to slide himself along the bench, further away from the approaching Altmer.

"What do you mean!?" she repeated. "She's was sent by the Thalmor." Tam said, gesturing at Rasha. "Why are you here!?"

"I-" Faldan stammered, his lips unable to form words.

"You can't have!?" Tam almost yelled, as realization dawned on her. "No, Faldan! It couldn't have been you!?"

The Nord woman behind the bar shouted over. "Mind keeping it down!?"

Tam ignored her. "Tell me you weren't behind what happened at Minestead?"

Rasha rose up from the bench, placing herself between the angry elf and Faldan.

The Altmer glared at her. "Get of of my way!"

"I'm here to warn you." the Khajiit told her, trying desperately to draw her attention away from Faldan. "The Thalmor know you're here."

"And what about him?"

"I was meant to kill him also, but things changed."

"Why were you to kill him?"

"So he didn't let slip his role in the destruction of your village."

Faldan let out a loud whimper, while Tam's face creased up with fury. Rasha felt herself tense up. She wondered if the Altmer was capable of tearing her in half. She looked like she could, given her size.

"Think carefully." Rasha said to her. "Think about your actions."

"I know how to control myself!" Tam uttered loudly. "I was trained to control myself!"

"What do you mean?" Rasha asked her.

"Don't play stupid!" Tam spat. "Why else would they chase me!?"

"I have no idea, they wouldn't tell me."

"I was a Blade!" Tam yelled.

Suddenly everything fell into place. Rasha finally understood why the Thalmor wanted her dead. She was a member of the Blades, an organization that was known for their honour and integrity. For their important role in the Great War.

"That's why." Rasha said. "All of that death though, just for you?"

Tam clenched her jaw. "All that death for me." she repeated. "Because I'm a Blade. Or was rather."

"Five years on, and they're still trying to get all of you?" Rasha asked.

The Altmer turned her attention back to Faldan, ignoring Rasha. "Was it you?" she asked him. "Why do it?"

Faldan didn't respond. He cowered further behind the Khajiit, hiding himself completely from Tam's view.

"Answer me!?" she yelled.

"Hey!" the barkeep shouted over. "Take your argument outside. Tables are hard to replace out here."

Tam turned and glared at her, before looking back at the two of them. "Follow me." she told them.

Rasha gripped Faldan's arm and whispered to him. "I'll keep her from murdering you."

They followed the tall Altmer out into the cold, where she immediately turned back to them, pointing her finger at Faldan.

He whimpered again, gripping onto Rasha's arms tightly, as he cowered behind her once again.

"Why!?" Tam yelled at him. "What did they offer you!?"

"I didn't know." he whimpered.

"Didn't know what!?" Tam shouted.

"I thought they just wanted you, I didn't know they were going to kill everyone."

"But why?"

"I was outlawed from the Dominion. They said I would be allowed to return to Valenwood, to my family and friends if I helped flush you out. They sent me to various villages and towns looking for you. I found you in Minestead."

"And for your service they tried to kill you?" Tam asked him.

"Yes."

Tam shook her head, clenching her jaw hard. "May Oblivion take you, you bastard!" she uttered, barely able to hold in her fury. "And you told the Imperials it was me?"

"It was part of their plan in case you managed to get away."

"They're all dead because of you!" she shouted at him.

"I know." he sobbed.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you!?"

"Because I won't let you." Rasha told her firmly. "He made a mistake, he has to live with it."

"Does he even care though?" Tam said accusingly. "Did he give a damn about those that were murdered?"

"Yes." he whispered. "I regret it."

"Why? Because the Thalmor turned on you?" Tam said turning away from them. She looked up the street towards the college. It stood tall on the rocky island that jutted out high above the the water.

"Will you try and kill him?" Rasha asked her.

Tam took in a deep breath. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill both of you." she said, her voice oddly calm.

"Because I'm here to help you." Rasha responded with equal repose.

"How, by telling me that Faldan destroyed the place I had started to call home? Out of everywhere I had been, Minestead was where I had dwelt the longest."

"I'm sorry, Tam." he said.

"Just a question." Tam began folding her arms, turning her gaze back upon the Bosmer, who remained hidden behind the Khajiit. "Answer me this Faldan. If they had kept their end of the bargain, and you were now at home in Valenwood, would you have any regrets?"

"I would still hate the fact that people had died because of me, yes." he answered.

"Stand before me you bastard!" the Altmer yelled at him. "Stop hiding, and look me in the eye!"

Faldan cowered, gripping Rasha's arms even tighter.

"I said face me, or I swear to the Nine that I _will _kill you, you bastard!"

"Faldan." Rasha said softly. "Do as she says. Look her in the eye, and tell her what she wants to hear."

"I can't." he said back. "I don't want to."

Tam turned and began to walk away. "Didn't think so, coward."

"What will you do?" Rasha asked after her. "They know you're here."

"I'll do what I always do. I find somewhere else and survive."

"But what of us?"

Tam halted and turned around "What do you mean?"

"I've actively gone against my contract, and Faldan is wanted dead by them."

The Altmer shrugged. "And? I don't care about what happens to the two of you. I don't know you, and Faldan can die in a hole for all I care."

"You need allies." Rasha pointed out. "Don't turn them away."

"I have allies. They're sat in that college." she said pointing. "Two people that I respect greatly, even if one of them doesn't seem to respect me as much as the other. But I can't be the one that destroys their lives, not this time, not any more."

Rasha looked back at the inn. "If you change your mind-."

"Don't start with that!" Tam said angrily. "You can stay in that inn all you want. I'm going to say goodbye to my friends and I'm leaving. People can't be around me, because I put them in danger."

"It was _my _fault." Faldan said moving from behind Rasha. He looked at Tam, but still couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. "It was _my _fault!" he repeated.

"No!" the Altmer said back. "It was the Thalmor's." With that, she turned and left them, standing by the inn as snow began to slowly flutter from the sky.

* * *

Magoza sat at the table staring at the flickering candles, as she had done for the past few hours. Hides-In-Trees and his brother, who she had learned was called Licks-Many-Snouts, a name she wasn't sure she wanted to know the origins of, had gone over the plan several times. Unfortunately, the plan was heavily flawed and they all knew it. Without knowing numbers of guards or how armed and armoured they were, it would be almost impossible to come up with anything definitive.

Hides had left the house some point after their last review of the plan, around a half hour ago. As to why he had left, she didn't know. It appeared as though he went to do something. Whatever it was, she'd just have to wait till he returned to find out.

She sighed loudly, causing the candle in the middle of the table to flicker wildly beneath her breath.

"How do you not fall over?" Snouts asked her.

She looked over at him confused by his odd statement. "What?" she asked him.

"You have no tail, why do you not fall on face?"

"I don't know. Balance I suppose."

"But no tail to balance with." he said.

"I don't know, haven't really thought about it."

"Cannot think of what life would be without tail."

"I can't imagine what life would be like with one."

"Most strange, yes?"

"I suppose it is."

"How do you eat?" Snouts asked her.

"What?" she asked, unsure whether he was making fun of her tusks or not.

"You have small mouth."

"I don't eat anything too big."

"Less choking?" Snouts asked.

"Why do you say that?"

"Young ones need to be taught early not to eat too much. Big mouths and small throats can cause choking if food not chewed."

"Sounds dangerous."

"Not if food chewed fully."

Magoza looked around the room, before focusing her attention back onto the flickering candle. She looked up as Hides stepped into the room.

"Everything okay?" Hides asked them, placing down a freshly purchased quiver, that was full of arrows.

"All is well." Snouts responded. "Been out capturing more slaves?" he asked bitterly.

There was clearly some animosity between them. A clear anger, and resentment that ran deep between them.

Hides ignored his brother's comment. "And you?" he asked the young Orc.

"Fine." Magoza said. "I just hate this waiting."

"Another full day and then we can free them." Hides said, trying to ease her worries.

"But what if they don't have that long?" she asked. "What if something happens to them before then?"

It was a legitimate fear that something could easily happen to them before they were scheduled to be moved. Knowing that there was nothing she could do about it made her feel worthless.

"The three of us cannot take on Talen-Xil's home. It would be suicide." Hides told her. "Besides, Licks-Many-Snouts is not the best fighter. He can brawl, but not fight full on."

"I know, it's just that I fear for them."

"I know." Hides said.

"And I can't loose anyone else."

"Don't think bad thought" Snouts said to her. "Put bad things out of head."

"I'll try." she told them, unconvinced whether she actually could or not.

All she knew was that the next couple of days would be like torture for her. She couldn't help but wonder if the Karo's themselves, were actually being tortured literally. With a shudder, she tried to push it out of her mind. Focusing on the flickering candle, trying to imagine that it was all that existed, and that nothing else mattered.

But she couldn't. All she saw in the flames were the faces of everyone she had lost. Her mother, the Wise Woman Dynak, and all her brothers and sisters there at the stronghold. She saw the face of Valerie, Tam and her real father Meratur, who she had left behind in Winterhold. She saw the Karo's, and images of them at their farm, working the half dead fields.

Finally, she saw her own mortality. Her place in the world had been so certain. Her mother had always told her, that she and Meratur, would take her to see the grand college of Winterhold in Skyrim.

Now it was nothing more than a fantasy. Her real future looked like it would consist of her being alone. Everyone she knew, every life she touched seemed to turn to ash beneath her grasp. She wondered what would happen to the two Argonians that were with her. Would their lives be turned to dust because of her as well?

Magoza felt as though she had been cursed. She didn't know how, why or whom, but she felt it.

Perhaps it was punishment from Malacath, because she dared to dream beyond the walls of the stronghold, of the prison.

* * *

Darovin, Llandri and Brendarr, all stared at the new guard as he replaced the old one. So far today they hadn't been let out of their cage or fed. They had hoped that with a shift change, they would be brought food. To their dismay, the new guard had nothing on him, and their aching stomachs would simply have to endure.

Worse was the smell of their own excrement. They each went in a small bucket, which had not been taken away or emptied out at all since yesterday afternoon.

Brendarr looked over at his father, who shook his head.

"No, son." he whispered. "Don't say anything."

"I wasn't going to." Brendarr replied, his voice barely audible. "Not after yesterday." Memories of being stripped and being forced to stand where strangers could see him, had not only been demeaning, it had been one of the worst experiences of his life.

The Argonian guard kicked the side of the cage. "Quiet, you go sleep now."

Was it really that late? Was it really time to sleep again?

Darovin cleared his throat. "We have not been fed yet today." he told the guard, trying his best to keep his voice even, without emotion, despite the claustrophobia, fear and hatred that churned within him.

The guard seemed disinterested. "Fed tomorrow. Complain any more and you won't be fed. Go to sleep now."

Darovin simply lay down on the floor, followed soon by the other two.

All that went through his mind as he closed his eyes were how they would get out of this. So far there had not been an opportunity to even attempt escape. When he saw a chance however, he would take it, knowing full well that it could all end badly.

He had no other choice than to try, and neither did his family. They had to escape, they needed to be free. There was no way he was going to spend the rest of his days, as a slave in a foreign land. He'd die before he let that happen.

Time was what he needed, but he felt that time was something they didn't have.


	15. DaggerintheWindCh14

**CHAPTER XIV**

Tam had long since finished telling Valerie, and the still weary, bed ridden Rontag, the story of the Khajiit and Faldan.

She had finally returned to the college, after deciding to sleep on the new information. Now it was the next day, and much to her chagrin, her thoughts on the subject weren't any clearer.

The most amazing part of the whole thing, was how accurate Rontag had been. Somehow, he'd had actually had some kind of vision, and it had been spot-on. The very fact that he had been correct on that single matter, had also filled Valerie with a false sense of hope, on what he had said regarding Magoza.

"We need to go to this Jehanna." Valerie said aloud, a sense of urgency in her voice. "If Magoza's alive, then that's where she'll be."

"What makes you say that?" Tam asked, troubled and deeply concerned by the whole situation. "And what makes you think that his dreams are even remotely real?"

Valerie looked at her husband. "He was right about that Khajiit wasn't he?" She turned her gaze over to Tam, her eyes sparkling. "Magoza _is _alive!"

"Unproven." Tam said, dismissing the notion.

"As I said, he was right about the Khajiit, and even the reason she was here."

"That doesn't mean _anything_." the Altmer refuted.

"Why doesn't it? He was right about something he couldn't possibly have known, so why not Magoza?"

Tam hated the whole situation they had found themselves in. Somehow he had known the Khajiit was there. But how? Was it possible that they had arrived just before they had left to kill the sabre cats? That Rontag had seen them and simply forgotten? But how had he known the reason _why_ they were there?

"Okay I'll give you that then." Tam conceded. "But what on Nirn, gives you even the faintest idea that Magoza is in Jehanna?"

Rontag stroked his messy, long since washed beard. "The old man in my dream told me that we should go there, and that Magoza is alive. There must be some clue in what he said. Why would he tell us she is alive, but not where she is?"

"There's nothing to go on but a dream." Tam told the two of them. "For all we know, some sick Daedra could be playing games with us. There is a giant Azura shrine built in the mountain range don't you know?"

"I don't think the old man was a Daedra." Rontag said to her. "Besides, when was the last time you heard of Azura tormenting mortals?"

"How do you know?" Tam asked him. "How do you _really _know anything!?"

"I don't." he accepted. "But why would a Daedra want to trick us?"

"Why would some old man send you a vision?" Tam asked him right back.

"I believe him." Valerie said, in support of her husband.

"Oh, I believe him too." Tam agreed. "It's whoever spoke to him in his dream, that I don't trust."

"Well, no matter whoever, or whatever it was behind his dream, one thing is certain. We cannot stay here." Valerie said. "Not with the Thalmor chasing us."

"Us?" Tam asked. "The Thalmor are after me, not you."

"Still, we're in this together."

"But for how long?" Tam asked them.

"For as long as they pursue us."

"That'll be a very long time, if they ever stop."

Valerie turned to her husband. "well, me and Rontag have decided that we are going to Jehanna. I would like you to come with us."

Tam looked away. "Just the three of us, with the Thalmor on my tail. It's just too dangerous."

"Then we bring the Khajiit and the Wood Elf along." Rontag said.

"What!?" Tam's gaze snapped over to him, unsure if he was being serious or not. "I don't want to see that bastard's face ever again, let alone have to travel anywhere with him."

"I have to agree with Tam here." Valerie said to her husband. "She's the only one of us that's even spoken to them, and she clearly isn't too happy with the idea."

"The Khajiit, on a whim, decided not to follow through on her contract." the Altmer added. "What's stopping her from reversing her position?"

"Something about the dream, makes me believe we can trust them." Rontag said earnestly.

"A dream we don't know the source of." Tam refuted.

"I trust it."

"I don't." the Altmer told him. "You two can go to Jehanna if you want."

"What do you mean by that?" Valerie asked confused. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"I'm wanted by the Imperials, for the false accusation of destroying a village, remember?"

"I'm wanted too." Valerie pointed out.

"But you're just an average looking Nord woman. You can disappear. I can't."

"What're you saying?" Valerie asked, sadness and disappointment clear in her voice.

"I'm not going to Jehanna with you."

"Where will you be going then?"

"I will head east, into Morrowind. Maybe there I can finally disappear."

"Morrowind?" Valerie repeated in shock.

"I cannot risk your lives."

"So is this goodbye?" The Valerie asked.

"Not right now. I'm going to give it a few days, to prepare."

Valerie put her hand on the Altmer's shoulder. "I don't like the idea of you going off on your own."

"I've been on my own before. I can deal with it."

"But the Thalmor will catch you up eventually."

"Which is why I want to be far away from you."

"Where will you go in Morrowind?"

"I've always wanted to visit Blacklight. Might go there and see that. Might visit Vvardenfell as well. See what a volcanic wasteland looks like."

Valerie glanced over at her husband, before looking back at Tam. "I don't know about Rontag." she said, her voice becoming choked up. "But I'll miss you."

"I'll miss the elf too." Rontag agreed.

"Well I'm not going anywhere just yet." Tam told them. "But I'll make sure I say a proper goodbye before I do."

Rontag slowly rose up from the bed, his wife shook her head, placing her hand on him, trying to get him to sit back down.

"No, what are you doing?" she asked her husband.

He swiped her hand away softly, before pushing himself to his feet. "If Tam's leaving, then I want us all to spend the last few days at home, not stuck in here."

"You sure you're ready? The bridge back to Winterhold isn't exactly safe." Valerie said, thinking back to the half destroyed, slippery snow-covered bridge, that crossed the expanse between the city and the college.

"I'm sure. Let us thank the mages that helped me before we go."

* * *

Magoza missed her Altmer father Meratur, she missed Valerie and Tam. She missed Darovin, Llandri and even Brendarr. She wished that the Karo's had been given the chance to meet her other friends, and her father. She knew that they would have gotten along, that they would have been friends.

Right now however, she was still waiting. Waiting till the family was to be moved south. Then they would be able to attack, and she would see their faces once again. But that wouldn't be today.

The young Orsimer heard the door open. She looked around to see Licks-Many-Snouts enter with a hand, or rather claw-full of small dead animals. he closed the door shut behind him, before walking over to the table, placing his kills down.

"We eat fresh!" Snouts exclaimed happily. "Not like Dark Elf who salt food and keep it till it taste funny. We eat not when over day old."

Magoza stared at the dead creatures for a moment. Just by looking at them, she couldn't actually tell what they were supposed to be. She couldn't even tell if they swam in the water, or moved on the land. They were kind of long and thin, with little defining features.

"You want to eat?" Snouts asked.

"Aren't you going to cook it?" she asked, worried that he was going to make her eat some raw creature he'd just found.

"Cook it, just for you."

Hides walked into the small room, and looked straight at the dead creatures on the table.

"You want food too?" Snouts asked his brother.

"Didn't you get some fruit for Magoza?" Hides questioned.

"I thought Orc like meat?" he asked. "Men and Elf call Orc beast race, like Argonian and Khajiit. Beast race like meat."

Magoza cleared her throat. "Well actually the Orsimer are Mer, but back in the stronghold, we usually only ate meat."

Hides made a strange sound, a particular noise he usually made, when she had said something he found funny. "None of the other Mer races would agree with you there, especially if you grew up in a stronghold like you said."

"We are descended from the Altmer." she told them. "Like the Dunmer, and the Bosmer."

"And like the Dark Elves, your race was changed by a Daedric Prince? Or at least that is what legend says." Hides said.

"Something like that." Magoza said back. "Only just because we have really big tusk like teeth on our lower jaw, and different eyes, some call us beasts."

"Maybe that, and the rages I've heard Orcs have." Hides added.

"Exaggerated, but not by much." Magoza told them. "I've never had one. Not to my knowledge anyway. Supposed to make you feel invincible, and also near does as well."

"I won't anger you." Snouts said. "Orc rage sound scary."

"Let's get that meat cooked for you." Hides told her, as he walked over to the table, picking it up off it's wooden surface.

A half hour or so later, she was eating it. It wasn't nasty tasting, but it wasn't particularly nice either. The food in a way, accurately reflected how the last day had gone; bland and boring, just without the deep sense of dread.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt nervous. The young Orc was not only scared, she was terrified of what would happen when they tried to rescue her Dunmer friends. She worried that they would be killed in the attempt. In fact it could easily go badly.

All she could do for now, was to try and not dwell on it. Every time she did, she began to feel nauseous, and sick.

She wanted it to have been done with. She wanted them to have been rescued and for them to be somewhere safe., far away from here. She wanted to take them to Winterhold, where they could meet Valerie, Rontag, Tam and her father Meratur.

But deep down she feared that they had moved on also, that the Karo's would all die, and that when she returned to Winterhold, that they had gone somewhere she would never find them.

Then of course there was Burag. She had no idea what had happened to him. She feared that while she had ended up in Morrowind, that he had remained, killing her friends. But something told her that he had vanished the same as she had. Whether he was still alive, or just displaced as what had happened to her, she had no idea.

What she did know, was that she had to prepare her mind and body for tomorrow. While she had a crossbow, she doubted she would even use it. She had her magic, and as the Nine as her witnesses, she would save her friends from a life of slavery.

* * *

The Karo's had been fed, and once again had been 'cleaned' by having cold water thrown over them.

Darovin had been ordered to deal with their bucket full of excrement, and to then collect twelve pails of water from the well, and carry it to the house. Llandri had been told to clean the house, and Brendarr had to trim some trees back, as their branches were getting too close to the house. The work was made much harder, considering they had to keep their shackles on. Luckily the chains between the ankle cuffs they wore were fairly long, giving them a bit more mobility than they would have otherwise.

Strangely though, they had not seen any other Dunmer slaves in the house as of yet. Listening to the guards spread no light on the matter, as they tended to speak in their own strange native tongue.

Darovin had soon finished fetching the water, and went to get more instructions. He was then sent down into a second basement, away from the one he and his family had been staying in. Inside, he found a large cage with two Dunmer in it. Both were male, and they appeared to be around his age. Looking by the scarce furnishings, which included two beds and a small chest of drawers, and a meagre few personal possessions, it appeared as though they had been there for a while.

The two spoke amongst themselves, seemingly ignoring everything that was going on outside the cage. They didn't even seem to notice he was there. If it hadn't been for the guard stood watching, Darovin would have tried to talk to them, to get to know how long they had been there. As it was however, it appeared as though he wouldn't get the chance.

As he swept the floor, he tried to listen in to their conversation. He only managed to pick up a few words, but enough to get the idea that the two were the ones that usually did all the work. He also picked up the word 'sold'. Without hearing more he couldn't quite tell if the two meant that they had been sold, or that he and his family had been.

Soon Darovin had finished cleaning the area, and the guard ordered him to receive new tasks. He did so, but not before taking mental notes on the layout of the house. He'd need to know as much as he could about their surroundings if he and his family were to escape.

* * *

Tam closed the front door of their small house, while Valerie helped Rontag over to the small table, that lay by the fire-place, helping him seat himself on a chair.

He looked around for a moment, before a loud, regretful sigh escaped his lips.

"What's wrong?" Valerie asked, sitting opposite him.

Rontag shook his head. "I'll miss this place y'know."

Tam locked the door before turning to them. "We've been here for only two months."

"Feels a lot longer." he said with another sigh.

Valerie placed her hand on his. "Not having second thoughts about going to High Rock are you?"

"No." he said, alleviating his wife's fears. "I had that vision for a reason."

"I hope you're right." Tam said. "I'd hate for you to be walking into danger."

"We'll be fine." Rontag told her. "We'll meet Malthar and-"

"Who's Malthar?" Valerie interrupted.

"The Breton I was told to meet." He told them. "Didn't I say?"

"Not his name, just that you were told to meet someone there." Tam clarified, with a shake of her head. "Anything else you can remember now, that you didn't before?"

"Not sure." He shrugged his shoulders. "Only that there was a big ship being built, and the old man had a Cyrodilic accent, and was clearly from there."

"What else did you see?" Valerie inquired, her interest peaked.

Tam interjected. "And what did you hear?"

"I can't recall hearing anything, but what the man told me." Rontag informed them.

"And what did you see?" Valerie asked again.

"I saw a beach, and a ship in an Imperial-style dry-dock."

"Were you in Cyrodiil?" Valerie asked him. "Anvil perhaps?"

"Didn't look like Cyrodiil." Rontag said. "Then again, I didn't see enough to know where I was."

"So you didn't notice any foliage?" Tam asked him.

"Any what?" Rontag asked, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Flowers, plants and such." Tam clarified.

"Not that I remember."

"And you remember nothing else?" Valerie asked.

"Nothing comes to mind right now."

Tam grunted. "This is weird, and I _hate _weird."

Rontag rubbed his eyes, before stifling a yawn.

"You still need rest." Valerie said to him. "You should go to bed and get some sleep."

"I've spent enough time sleeping." he replied. "I need to regain my strength."

"You will." Valerie said. "Just rest. For me."

Rontag nodded slowly. "Okay, Valerie. I'll get some rest."

He slowly pushed himself to his feet, waving off any help his wife offered. "I love you Valerie." he said to her.

"I love you too." she replied.

He turned and headed into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Valerie looked over at Tam, before rising up herself. "I think I'll go grab some things from the general store." she said.

"I can go if you want?" Tam offered.

"Thanks, but I'll go get them." she said as she made her way over to the door.

"I'll call you if anything comes up." Tam said.

Valerie nodded before opening the door, allowing some more of the hot air out. "See you in a little bit." she said, before closing the door behind her.

Tam shuddered. Not because of the escaped heat, but because the whole situation filled her with a sense of unease. She had no idea what to make of Rontag's so called vision. All she knew was to trust her instincts, and what the evidence told her. In this matter, her instincts told her nothing. Her brain on the other hand, told her that there was vital missing information.

While she knew that they could be walking into danger, she also knew that if she went with them, then they _would_ be in danger. That was a fact, and it was something she could no longer allow.

* * *

Faldan lay in bed under the fur covers wide awake in the darkened candle-lit room in the inn. The room he and Rasha both shared was open to the main room, and the beds were on opposite walls.

Today had been rather uneventful. Tam hadn't returned to the inn, and he could sense that Rasha felt the whole journey up here had been a waste of time.

Just after lunch, Rasha had left the inn to go for a walk. It had been such a long walk, that he had thought she had in fact abandoned him. But as night-time fell, she had returned, simply telling him that the Sea of Ghosts looked rather tranquil with the large ice islands that dotted the coast.

They had then both had some supper and sat almost in silence before going to bed.

Now the Bosmer found himself staring across the room at the Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit as she slept. She had removed the hat he had given her back in Windhelm, and slept in her tunic and leggings under the fur blanket just as he was.

Strangely he found her somewhat alluring. She could kill him in an instant, and he found that oddly exciting. Despite being of the beast race, he found her almost Mer looking face to be appealing, even though it was hidden beneath a mass of fur.

Another thing that he found enticing were her eyes. Like other khajiit, they were slit like, giving her a most other-worldly appearance. Overall he knew he liked her more than he should. The fact that she had effectively saved his life didn't help the unacceptable feelings he felt brewing inside him.

He saw her eyes flicker open. They seemed to glow strangely in the candlelight.

"What's up?" she asked. "You're staring."

"Nothing." he told her. "Just wondering what we'll do now?"

"Move on I suppose." she told him.

"Where too though?"

"Let's not think about that." she said with a warm smile.

Faldan felt his heart begin to beat faster in his chest. He knew he was being foolish to even think she would see him more than just, well whatever it was she saw him as. Whatever it was he doubted she shared his attraction. He was just a stupid, cowardly Bosmer with no distinguishing features, other than the fact that he was an adequate healer.

"I think given the time, we'll be good friends." she told him. "I could use a healer by my side, considering what I do"

"Yes." was all he managed to say.

"Look, sorry for what I said on the road when we got in that argument."

"No, I was being an idiot." he said. "I should be apologising to you."

"Goodnight." she said, turning around in her bed, facing away from him.

"Goodnight." he responded sadly. It was true that she did not see him the way he saw her, and probably never would. That alone made him feel inadequate.

"It's just a stupid, adolescent crush you have on her!" he whispered hotly under his breath.

He realised, much to his horror, that he had forgotten that she had exceptional hearing. He had now probably made himself look like a fool.

He turned around in his bed, facing the wall, hoping that she hadn't heard him, that she was too tired to have heard him.

Faldan put the thought out of his mind and sought sleep. Tomorrow they would be continuing on, their destination unknown. He just hoped Rasha wouldn't get him killed.


	16. DaggerintheWindCh15

**CHAPTER XV**

Magoza, Hides and Snouts, were all hiding in a rather large woodland of giant mushrooms and trees, all ranging from around five feet, to thirty feet tall. They could easily see the road from their position, but they themselves were quite well concealed.

Today was the day the Karo's were going to be moved, and she had to be ready. She would succeed in rescuing them, even if it meant her own life. They were good people, they tried hard to hold on to their farm. To be snatched away from their home as they had been, filled her with rage.

Both Hides and Snouts had a bow. Hides would soon be moving off to climb the large tree, that lay at the other side of the road, so he could get a better angle, while Snouts hid by the thick stalk of a twelve foot tall mushroom. There was no doubt in Magoza's mind that she was finally getting to see where Hides got the his name from.

Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, as she practised her spells, allowing flames and ice to erupt in her hand and fizzle out. While she was confident in her ability to use magic, she wasn't confident in how well she would preform when the time came to actually using it offensively. She knew she had to free her friends, but held no illusions regarding her actual skills. She would have to be on top form, if they had any chance of succeeding.

She looked across at Hides as he reached the top of the tree. From what he had told her, he was the only one here with any real combat skill, and that was only with a bow. They had no clue as to how many slavers there would be, and no clue as to their abilities or training. Hides had told her that he merely gathered the Dunmer slaves, that he had never actually transported them within Argonian borders.

Magoza looked to the north. The road was quiet now, but it wouldn't stay that way. When the time came she would be ready.

She pulled the crossbow off her back and aimed down the sights. The first strike or two, she would deal using the odd contraption. Then she would use her Divines given gift of magic to finish off them off. At least that was the plan.

They had made a grave mistake taking the Karo family, and she would make sure the slavers knew that fact before they died.

* * *

Darovin was awoken violently with a kick to the gut. He heard his wife cry out. His first instinct was too rush over to her, and defend her, but his memory caught up with him, and he remembered their situation.

He knew little would come of fighting their captives, at least right now. He would have to strike at just the right moment, and hope his family followed his lead with as much fierce determination as he felt. He also knew that once the shackles were back on their wrists, as opposed to just on their ankles, that all hope was truly lost. If they were going to make a move, it would have to be before then.

Today was the day they were being moved southwards, that much he knew. As to where they were being moved, he had absolutely no idea whatsoever. All he did know, was that it was deeper into Argonian territory.

They were pulled out of the cage that they had called home since they had been brought here, and the Argonians held up their wrist shackles in triumph, waiting to put them on.

Darovin as usual, was to be the first one to be put into the irons. As the Argonian, one of four, stepped forward with the wrist cuffs in hands, Darovin lunged forward, his hands outstretched. The Argonian was prepared for the attack, instantly raising his defences. Luckily for the Dunmer, he hadn't anticipated the type of attack. Darovin grabbed the Argonian's jaw and ripped it open with as much force as he could, not caring that a few of the slaver's teeth cut deep into his fingers.

As the others rushed in to pull the Dunmer off, Llandri and Brendarr rushed in, knocking them away, defending the husband and father.

With a satisfying pop, Darovin felt the Argonian's neck snap, and allowed him to fall to the floor before turning to the three others. As he moved forward he heard a shout from down the narrow hallway.

"Make an example!" the voice cried.

Before he knew what was happening, Darovin felt sharp, cold steel slip through his back, in-between his ribs. He felt the agony as his pierced heart beat, ripping itself apart on the blade that now sat, sticking out his chest.

He collapsed to his knees, his head feeling light, his limbs feeling numb. He looked up to see his wife and son staring at him in horror, the other Argonian's restraining them from behind.

Darovin tried to reach around, to grab the handle of the dagger that had impaled his heart, through his back. He had no idea who it had been that had stabbed him. All he knew was the pain and the blood.

His vision began to blur, and he found himself laying on his side on the wet, blood washed crimson floor. He saw feet by his face. He looked up, but couldn't make out who it was. His vision was too blurred, his eyes simply refused to focus.

"You followed the pattern they all do." A voice said. Distant, yet close. "We sold two slaves, not three. An example was to be expected. You are that example to the other two."

The Dunmer coughed up blood and wheezed. "Don't give in to them." he said to his wife and son. "I love you."

His vision began to fade. The last thing he ever heard was his wife scream his name.

* * *

"Darovin!" Llandri screamed at the top of her lungs.

A large Argonian was gripping her around the waist, pinning her arms by her side. She was stopped from getting to her husband, stopped from being at his side as his life slipped away.

But her husband ceased breathing, and his eyes glazed over. The mark that he was gone.

"You bastards!" she yelled, spitting at Talen, who stood with her husband at his feet.

He turned to her, a look of triumph on his lizard face. "Do you want me to take your son's life away?" he asked her.

Her eyes grew wide. "No." she said in terror. "Please, don't!"

"Then except your fate." he told her.

Llandri looked over at her son. His eyes were closed tightly and his body trembled. She looked down at her husband's form and felt her throat open.

Moments later she was on her hands and knees, vomiting onto the floor. The contents of her stomach, mixing in with the mass puddle of blood, that still seeped from her dead husband's wound.

Her whole body trembled. Her husband was dead, and the true realisation of their predicament sunk in with such a force that it shook her to her bones.

"Put them in their shackles." Talen said. "And prepare them for the journey."

Llandri felt herself being hoisted up onto her feet and the iron cuffs placed firmly onto her wrists. A hand gripped her face. She looked forward to see Talen looking at her, his hand clutching her jaw.

"Your journey will be on foot." he told her. "Do not expect any rescue. Your kind have no real power to stop us." He let her go . "Prepare them, then get that mess cleaned up!"

Two other Argonian's entered the room and spoke to them. But Llandri didn't hear them. Her husband was dead, and they were to spend the rest of their lives as slaves.

Nothing mattered any longer. There was no hope for them, their lives were over.

"This is that Orc's fault." she heard Brendarr mutter under his breath, tears running from his eyes. "I'll rip out her heart!"

She looked over to him, but didn't respond. What was there to say? What _could _be said?

The two of them were herded into a small room where they were force fed. Then they were taken out onto the road, heading southwards where their final fate lay.

* * *

They were in their home, and Tam didn't like it. She sat leant up against the wall, while Rasha the Khajiit, and Faldan the Bosmer traitor, sat at the table. Rontag was sat on a chair opposite them, and Valerie stood by his side.

Tam hated Faldan. Before he had come, she had been living a quite stable and happy life, even if it was as an ore miner. He had come along and destroyed all that. He had informed the Thalmor of her presence there, and now he had the blood of every one of those that had been killed in Minestead, on his hands.

The Khajiit, Rasha she was unsure of. The Ohmes-Raht's motivations were suspect. Why had she befriended Faldan? Why had she warned her that the Thalmor knew she was in Winterhold?

Whatever the reasons, she didn't trust them. She had been warned before, back at the ruins of Cloud Ruler Temple, that the Thalmor were looking for her. That had turned out to be a trap.

For now she tolerated their presence, even if she didn't really like it. For some reason, Rontag was foolishly putting a lot of faith into that dream he'd had. A dream that had occurred while he was recovering from a severe poison. While the actual source of the dream wasn't clear, it was compelling. Somewhere out there Magoza could still be alive, even if the chances of it being true were very remote.

Valerie believed it to be in Jehanna, but there was no evidence for that. The only reason to believe that any of the dream was true, was the presence of the traitor and the would-be assassin.

Tam forced herself to stop dwelling on the inconsistencies, and focus on what was being said.

"-and you grew up in Cyrodiil?" Rontag asked Rasha, continuing on with a conversation, that Tam had missed the most of.

"Yes, I did." the Khajiit replied. "So what?"

"You live through the war?"

"Yes. I was mainly contracted with taking care of the growing bandit problem, while the main focus of the Legion was on the Dominion. I took care of bandit leaders, usually while they slept."

"Don't they have fighters guild for that?" Rontag asked her.

"Yes, but the bandits grew quite bold during the war. There simply wasn't enough Legion patrols to keep the roads safe, and a lot of Fighters Guild members joined the Legion to fight the Dominion."

"So you dealt with bandits all by yourself?" Valerie asked, her tone suggesting that she didn't believe her.

"Not quite. I was working with the Fighters Guild in a way, though not directly employed by them. I went in, took out the leader, and if there was chance, misplaced their weaponry. Then the Fighters Guild, the few of them that there were, struck soon afterwards, while they were in disarray."

"And they never caught you sneaking in?" Rontag asked.

"I don't get caught on a job." she told them.

"What about in Windhelm?" Faldan asked.

"I was sleeping." Rasha explained. "So it doesn't count."

"Why go against your contract with the Thalmor?" Valerie asked, taking the conversation a different direction.

"Because it was wrong." Rasha replied.

"That's troll shit and you know it!" Tam snapped. "What's the real reason!?"

Faldan jumped in fright, while Rontag and Valerie looked over at her, shocked at her sudden outburst.

Rasha glared. "For someone who I've actively decided not to murder in their sleep, you seem quite ungrateful."

"I don't trust you." Tam told her. "You'll have to prove yourself to me."

"I don't take contracts that break my oath."

"Oath?" Tam questioned. "Assassins with oaths that include not killing!?"

"I'm a bounty hunter." Rasha corrected.

Tam shrugged. "Okay then, what is you oath?"

"To not kill those who I deem innocent of misdeed."

"Why didn't you kill Faldan then?" Tam questioned. "He killed everyone in Minestead!" she spat.

"He was only a pawn."

"He was-" Tam trailed off. "You know what, I don't want to talk about that." she said to them. "I want to get the reasoning behind _your_ actions, Khajiit."

"You want to know the reasons why I am as I am?" Rasha asked.

"I want to know why an assassin-"

"Bounty hunter!" Rasha exclaimed. "Why do I always have to make the distinction to people!?"

"Bounty hunter, then." Tam conceded. "Why would a _bounty hunter _turn down a contract, from the _Thalmor_ of all people. And based on their feelings!? It's a stupid thing to do. The Thalmor don't forget, and while they might not actively hunt you, you might now be a bonus on a future assassination contract."

"It's not something I want to talk about." the Khajiit told her.

Tam clenched her jaw. She would be heading off soon and Rontag wanted to take the Khajiit and the Bosmer with him and his wife to Jehanna. But the Thalmor wanted Faldan dead and that meant that neither Valerie or Rontag would be safe. There was absolutely no way she was going to allow these two, to put her friends in possible danger.

"When I leave, you two are coming with me!" Tam said to Faldan and Rasha.

"What?" Faldan asked in surprise.

"What do you mean?" Rontag asked.

"The Thalmor want them." Tam said. "You will be in danger with them."

"But my dream."

"I don't give a damn about your dream!" Tam shouted at him. "If Magoza is in Jehanna, like Valerie wishes to believe, then do you want the Thalmor following you?" she asked. "Putting Magoza's life at risk?"

Rontag shrugged. "All I know is that my dream said Magoza was still alive. There was no indication that she was in Jehanna, only that we were supposed to meet that Malthar there."

Valerie placed her hand on her husband's shoulder. "She's right, we deserve a fresh start away from anyone that will bring us danger."

"But why must I go with her?" Faldan asked, making sure he didn't look at Tam as he said it.

"Because if you think for a moment that you're going with my two friends, then you are mistaken." Tam told him. "You have a large target on you, so do I. I may hate your guts, but we're tainted."

"Tam is right." Rasha said. "We shouldn't put others in danger."

The Altmer looked at the Khajiit. "Not too late you know."

"For what?" Rasha asked.

"To kill me and Faldan. You'd get your coin and be free."

"Who says they would reward me for my services?" Rasha asked her. "Who's to say that they wouldn't simply kill me also?"

Tam hadn't thought of that, and things began to make a little more sense regarding her actions. It was true that if they killed the Khajiit, then not only would they seal another gap in their leaky boat of conspiracy and lies, but they also wouldn't have to pay her.

"I'm not going anywhere with her!" Faldan said frightfully.

Tam glared at him. She wanted so much to be just grab his head and crush his skull. While she knew that she wasn't strong enough for that, she also knew that it would do no good. They had used him, and then sought to remove him. He was nothing now, but a scared little mer.

For the first time, she realised how pitiful he was, how _broken_. He sat there only as a mere shell of what he had been, back when she had thought she had known him in Minestead. He was on the verge of a mental breakdown just by being in her presence. She scared him to death, and in some small way, that was good enough consolation for her.

Slowly Tam walked over to him. He cowered in his chair, while the other three in the room tensed up, half expecting the Altmer to remove his head.

Instead Tam held out her hand to him. "Taemwyn Orthar." she told the frightened Bosmer. "While not a fresh start, I am offering you my hand in tolerance."

Faldan stared at her hand, unsure what to do.

"Take it." Rasha whispered to him. "Don't let this pass by."

Slowly he raised his hand and grasped hers. Tam clenched her teeth hard, just to stop herself from squeezing his hand until it shattered. After a brief moment she let go turning to Valerie and Rontag.

"I don't trust those dreams of yours." she said to them. "Make sure you go to Solitude and find Meratur before you head off to Jehanna. He used to live there, so he probably knows a lot of folk. And if there's any chance that his daughter is alive, then he'll want in on it."

Valerie smiled. "Never even thought of that." she said. "And Magoza used to live in a Stronghold near there. Maybe that's where she went."

Tam held back her tongue. The chances of Magoza even being alive were slim, let alone her being back in High Rock. Perhaps Rontag had been right after-all. Maybe Valerie couldn't let go.

"When are you setting off?" Rontag asked.

Tam looked at Rasha and Faldan. "Whenever those two are ready."

"Two days." Rasha said.

"Two days." Tam agreed.

* * *

The road was quiet. Nothing had come along in hours, and Magoza was beginning to think that they weren't coming at all. Her worst fear was that they had already gone, that they had somehow missed them.

That fear didn't stay for long, as a group of six armed and armoured Argonian's came over the horizon, walking down the road with some Dunmer in tow.

From this distance she couldn't quite tell if it was the Karo's, nor could she see if there were three of them. But as they moved closer, it became clear who it was, and even more clear that Darovin wasn't with them.

Her mind began to race. Where was he? Was he back at the old manor house near Narsis? Had he been made a personal slave and separated from his family? If so, then they'd have to figure out how to rescue him later. Right now they had a job to do, and the young Orsimer knew that the six Argonian guards could easily be stronger, and better than the three of them. She knew they could easily be killed and that the Karo's may spend the rest of their lives as slaves in a foreign land.

Without further thought, she had the ebony crossbow in hand and was aiming along it's sights down at the approaching slavers.

Suddenly, one of the Argonian guards fell to the dirt with an arrow in the side of his head, alerting the other Argonians immediately. Magoza quickly released a crossbow bolt, and watched it miss her target completely.

Without another thought, she holstered the crossbow, lest she hit Llandri or Brendarr by mistake, and jumped out from where she was hiding, letting firebolts fly, striking the tallest Argonian in the face.

He cried out, as they all turned their attention onto her. Two more arrows flew out, striking two more of the Argonians, one from Hides, the other from Snouts.

The Argonian who was clearly in charge, shouted something at the others in a strange, hissed language. They split up, as yet more arrows flew out from the cover of the vegetation.

"I'll kill you!" Magoza screamed at him.

The large Argonian came at her with a jagged sword. She fired bolts of fire at him, as she backed up slowly. Suddenly, the leader found himself on the floor, as Llandri who was bound in wrist chains, threw herself into his back.

Magoza quickly grabbed the crossbow off of her back and placed a bolt into the runner, pulling back the lever, priming it to fire. She pointed it down at the Argonian's head and pulled the trigger.

The bolt buried itself into the side of his face with a sickening crack. His skull splintering under the tremendous force. His body twitched, then went limp.

The young Orc turned as Llandri cried out. She came face to face with another slaver, but he collapsed to the floor with an arrow buried in the back of his head.

She looked over to see Snouts heading back towards the city. She then looked over at Llandri and Brendarr as they stared at her.

"You saved us?" Brendarr asked her in disbelief.

"Of course I did." she said back. "Why wouldn't I?"

"But I thought-" Brendar began

Llandri cut him off as she moved herself in front of her son. "Watch out" the Dunmer said as she glared over towards the trees. Magoza looked around to see Hides walking over to them.

"That's Hides-In-Trees." she told the two. "He helped me find you."

Llandri regarded him suspiciously.

Magoza shouted over to him. "Where's Snouts going?" she asked him.

"His work here is done." Hides replied. "He's going home."

Magoza looked back at the two. "We need to get these wrist cuffs off."

Hides-In-Trees knelt over the largest of the dead Argonians, and began to search him. "This one probably has the key on him."

Magoza turned to Llandri and Brendarr. "Where's Darovin?"

They both looked away, breaking eye contact.

"Got the key." Hides told them.

He stood up and passed it to Magoza. She moved over to Llandri and opened her wrist and ankle cuffs, before doing the same for Brendarr.

"We need to go get Darovin." Magoza told them. "We can't leave him-"

"No point." Llandri interrupted, fighting back the tears that threatened to burst from her eyes.

"What do you mean?" the Orc asked, once again feeling her heart start thumping in her chest in fear.

"He's dead." the Dunmer widow said, her voice cracking with emotional strain.

Magoza stared at Llandri in shock. She could barely believe what she had just been told.

Hides grabbed one of the corpses. "We need to hide these." he said. "We don't want people discovering that you've escaped too quickly."

Nobody else moved. Brendarr and Llandri stared vacantly at the floor, while Magoza simply stood there with her mouth agape.

Hides mumbled under his breath, as he dragged the largest corpse behind the trees. He returned quickly. "We need to hide these bodies!" he told them, in a louder, more urgent tone.

Magoza looked at him confused. "What?" she asked, having not heard him.

"The bodies!" he hissed. "We need to hide them!"

Llandri agreed. "Yes, we should hide them." she said stoically, her emotions spent. "Brendarr help us get these bodies into the tree line."

They all gripped a corpse each and dragged it off the road. All except Magoza, who struggled with the one body she picked. Eventually though, all the bodies were hidden out of direct sight.

"We need to get moving." Hides told them. "We head west, then north into Dark Elf controlled Morrowind."

He lead the way. The two Dunmer, and the Orsimer followed in mournful silence.


	17. DaggerintheWindCh16

**CHAPTER XVI**

The four of them had gotten very little sleep that night. In fact Magoza, Llandri and Brendarr had barely had more than a half hour, if they had even that.

The memory of Darovin's horrible death still lingered in the two Dunmer's thoughts. Every time they tried to close their eyes, they saw him on his knees, clutching at the blade that stuck out his chest, at the metal that had pierced his heart.

Magoza hadn't slept, because she blamed herself for his death. She believed that if she hadn't waited for them to be moved, and attacked the house instead, then she could have saved him, that he would still be alive. The Orsimer hadn't shared the notion with the others, as she knew they'd just tell her that there was nothing she could have done. She didn't believe it. In her heart, she felt that she hadn't done all that was possible, and Darovin had paid with his life.

Late last night, they had all returned to the small abandoned village that Magoza and Hides had stayed in during their trip south to Narsis. They had made a camp-fire, and all sat around it for warmth. None of them spoke to the other, there was nothing to say, and small talk was the last thing on their minds.

When the sun finally started to rise over the horizon again, the weary group had eaten some breakfast, which consisted of food that Hides had caught. They then continued northwards into Dunmer Morrowind.

Llandri wanted to return to the farm, despite Hides' protests that it would no longer be safe there. In the end she had managed to convince him that they wouldn't be staying long. Just long enough to grab the guar, and as many supplies as the wagon could carry, before heading to Almalexia for a few days to gather themselves. Then, her plan was for them to head north to the city of Blacklight, and perhaps to Solstheim, where the Dunmer widow had been raised.

Magoza had thought about suggesting that they head into Skyrim, but knew that they would probably not agree, especially considering the guar would not survive the harsh weather there. She'd have to go with them, even though she desperately wanted to take them to her friends up in Winterhold. If they were still even there, and hadn't moved on with their lives.

"A few hours and we will be there." Hides-In-Trees told them.

"Yeah." was all Llandri managed to say.

"I suggest that we are in and out of there quickly." he said. "When Talen finds out you have escaped, he will send people to your farm to look for you."

Brendarr scowled. "He can do whatever he wants. We'll kill everyone he sends."

"Don't be too sure of that." Hides warned. "We only succeeded in rescuing you, because of the suddenness and accuracy of our attack. They will be prepared if and when we next meet."

Brendarr looked over at him. "Don't speak to me, Argonian!" he spat.

"Don't Brendarr." Llandri pleaded. "Just don't."

"Why!?" the Dunmer asked his mother. "Why shouldn't I? His kind killed my father. His kind are nothing but filthy swamp scum!"

"Watch it kid." Hides warned.

"Or what!?" Brendarr asked. "You'll kill me!?"

"Stop!" Llandri yelled in despair. "Please, just stop this!"

Brendarr went quiet, while Hides moved slightly further ahead.

The tension was almost intolerable. At any moment Brendarr or Llandri could snap under it. Magoza knew it, Hides knew it, they all knew it. The two Dunmer had been through a lot, and it was all starting to catch up with them emotionally.

However, the stress they were all under wasn't about to go away any time soon. Having to leave one's home, and everything they owned wouldn't be easy. It would be hard and quite painful. They were sure to find it difficult to leave it all behind. If nothing else, it would reinforce the fact that Darovin was dead, and that everything Llandri had known for almost two decades, and what Brendarr had known all his life, was now at an end.

* * *

Rontag struggled to stand up from the chair in their small house, forcing Valerie to help him up out of it, while Tam looked on with a feeling of guilt.

She felt guilty because she didn't want to leave them. Not when Rontag looked like he might not get his strength back for weeks, or even a month. If the Thalmor showed up, then they would be in no position to defend themselves against them. She also knew that she couldn't stay. The Thalmor knew she was here, and they wouldn't wait around if they thought the assassin they had sent, hadn't completed her mission.

That was another matter that played on her mind. While she gave the story that she had broken her contract, Tam wasn't entirely convinced. Faldan on the other hand, she was. Either he was the greatest conman on Nirn, or he was genuinely depressed over what had happened because of his actions. Still, she would have to watch the Ohmes-Raht very closely. One false move and she'd be on her like a hawk's talons to a rabbit's hide.

Right now, Rasha and Faldan were at the inn, waiting to leave. While Tam had set a rough date, within the next few days, she wasn't sure yet whether she should postpone it or not. It was a difficult decision. It was all difficult. Especially finding out what Faldan had done, what he had caused. But he hadn't caused it, and she knew that. It was the Thalmor. Somehow though, she couldn't find it within herself to forgive him, to be able to let it go.

Why she'd had the idea to bring them along with her, when she finally left, she didn't know. Every time the Bosmer entered her mind, she just wanted to strangle the life out of him. The thoughts were neither productive, nor satisfying. All they did was make her angry, upset and useless. She should have tried harder to save those at the village. She should have not allowed herself to get trapped as she had.

Tam knew that she'd have to sit down with him alone, before they left and have a long talk. She wondered though, if she'd need to be tied to a chair to stop herself from putting her hands around his throat, or her fist through his face.

Thinking of the Thalmor, and how they had used the Bosmer, made her think of her former Blades student, Albus. The last time she had seen him, was when he was walking away from her in defeat on the road to Skyrim. The Thalmor had already killed his family, yet he held onto the notion that they were still alive; that by doing what they wanted, he could be with them again.

She should have smelt the danger, when Albus had shown up on the steps of the decimated Cloud Ruler Temple. He had told her the Thalmor knew where she was, and she had taken it as one friend looking out for another. Of course they had known she was staying in Bruma. They had been the ones that had sent him, most likely to speed her up in leaving the city, so they could get her when she was more exposed. Though why they hadn't attacked her at Cloud Ruler, she didn't know. Perhaps they hadn't known she was there, and Albus simply went there on a whim.

It dawned on her that the way they had used Faldan, was the same way they had used Albus. Manipulated him into doing their bidding with a promise they never intended to keep.

"Are you okay?" Valerie asked her.

The Altmer looked over at the two Nords, who appeared to be staring at her.

"What?" Tam asked them.

"You look like you're thinking about something?"

"I need to talk to Faldan." The Altmer told them. "I mean, I need to." she paused. "I don't know what I need, what I want from him."

"Blood?" Rontag asked her.

"Ron!" Valerie exclaimed. "That's the last thing she needs from him!"

Tam shook her head. "I need to be able to put it behind me, or else I can't move on with my life."

Rontag began to move towards the front door. "We could all go to the inn, have a long talk together?"

"I need to do it alone."

"Well we go to the inn and fetch this Wood Elf for you, and bring him back." Rontag suggested, stopping by the door.

"Tomorrow." Tam said.

"Can't keep putting it off." he told her. "If you want to have a talk with him, then best to do it sooner rather than later."

"If you think so." Tam said with a shrug. "I just don't think I can keep myself together."

Valerie nodded. "I can stay if you want?"

"No." Tam said. "It needs to be a heart to heart, and I can't do that with people watching."

"Sounds like you don't know what you want?" Rontag observed.

Tam disregarded his observation. "I know exactly what I want. I want a normal life, a house for myself by the ocean." Tam looked up to the ceiling. "Maybe to even find love someday. To have children, grandchildren." she looked down at her gauntleted hands. "What I don't want is to be pursued by golden predators, that want nothing more to see the life drained from my body."

"I didn't know you wanted any of that other stuff." Valerie said, mournfully.

"Before I began running for my life, it wasn't a dream of mine. But it has become something I long for since. I just want normality."

Rontag looked over at his wife. "Come on, let's go fetch that Wood Elf."

* * *

She was laughing! Rasha was actually belly laughing at something he had said, and it filled Faldan full of joy.

Now that they had been stuck in the inn for the past few days, and hadn't been arguing over anything, Faldan had found that he had grown rather fond of the Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit.

While he knew the moment wouldn't last forever, he had not felt such a serene, perfect feeling in a long time. In a way, it made him a little homesick for Valenwood. He could never return there, and while he knew that he would never get used to that fact, at least he could find some joy beyond its borders.

Faldan turned as the front door opened, revealing the Iron-Axe's, a Nord couple that both knew, and lived in a house along with Tam. Rontag walked over to a table, while Valerie made her way over to them. Her face with a rather stern look on it.

"Something the matter?" Rasha asked her.

Valerie focused on Faldan. "Tam wants a one on one."

Faldan felt as though his stomach had just dropped out onto the floor. A queasy sensation washed over him. "What do you mean?" he asked her, trying in vain to try and hide the fear he felt.

"She wants to talk to you." Valerie clarified.

"What does she want to talk to him about?" Rasha asked.

"Not sure."

The Bosmer bit his lower lip. He hated feeling so afraid, but he also knew that he had a good reason to. Blood was on his hands, and the only other survivor hated him because of it. He deserved her hate, and knew he would have to earn her forgiveness. If he got the chance and she didn't bash his head in.

"I'll come with you." Rasha told him.

Valerie shook her head. "Sorry, but Tam wants to speak to him alone."

"We both know that leaving him alone with Taemwyn, is a bad idea."

"Do we?" Valerie asked her. "Tam's a friend. She just wants to talk, nothing else."

Rasha disagreed. "When it comes to what happened in Minestead, she's quite impassioned."

"Wouldn't you be?" Valerie questioned. "If you finally felt like you'd found a home, only to have it torn away from you, wouldn't you be angry, upset?"

"Which is why I don't think he should be alone with her." Rasha explained. "Faldan doesn't want to meet her alone."

Valerie looked at the Bosmer. "And what does he think?"

Before Faldan could say anything, Rasha responded. "He doesn't want to meet her alone."

"Stop speaking for him!" Valerie snapped. "Let him speak for himself!"

Rasha went quiet, silently fuming at the Nord for screaming at her. She didn't appreciate being spoken to in that manner, especially when she had legitimate concerns.

The Bosmer cleared his throat. "Well, maybe it would be good to meet her alone."

Rasha glared at Valerie, before addressing Faldan. "She might tear your head off if given the chance!"

"Maybe I deserve it." he said, raising himself up from the table.

Rasha gripped his arm. "If it looks like the conversation is going sour, get out of there and return to me."

He nodded. "I will."

* * *

Much to Tam's surprise, Faldan didn't only come, but he actually came alone.

The two of them had been sitting at the table for the past five minutes, staring at each other, neither uttering a single word.

Faldan was terrified, she could easily tell. The way his face had gone a peculiar shade of white, how he gripped the side of the table tightly, and by how rigid he was. She imagined that if she gave him a little push, he'd fall over like a tree that had been cut by a lumberjack. A small smile appeared on her face at just the thought.

The Altmer cleared her throat suddenly, causing Faldan to almost jump out of his skin.

Tam held up her hands in a disarming manner. "I didn't call you here to harm you."

"I'm sorry for what happened." he apologized, his voice quivering.

"I didn't call you here to talk about that." she told him, desperately not wanting the conversation to go in that direction. Just the thought of Minestead made her angry.

"Then what?" he squeaked.

Tam looked at him for a few moments. When she had seen him before, she had been so angry with him, so furious. Now, without his Khajiit protector, he seemed more vulnerable.

"I want to know who you are, Faldan?"

"What?"

"Tell me about yourself?"

"I don't know what to-"

"Tell me!?" she shouted.

Faldan whimpered, as Tam recoiled in shock at her own outburst. "I'm sorry." she apologized. "I really didn't mean to shout."

Faldan simply stared at her, eyes wide, his knuckles tightly grasping the side of the table.

"I just wanted to know a little about you?" she said as softly as she could manage. "I want to try and understand you, at least a little bit? Where're you from, what did you do? That kind of thing."

"I-" he faltered. "I was raised in Valenwood."

"Were you born there?"

"Erm, yes."

"Good, tell me about it?"

"Well, it was nice." he told her, his voice betraying a deep pain.

"How did you end up in Cyrodiil?" she asked him.

"I don't want to talk about it." Faldan said, his eyes staring passed her.

"Okay." Tam acknowledged, not wanting to push him into saying anything he didn't want to, even though it meant they now had nothing to discuss.

She had wanted to understand why he had done what he had done. Without some idea as to what he had left behind in Valenwood, and why it was that he had been driven from there, then she would never understand.

Tam pushed herself up from her seat. "Come on Faldan." she said to him. "Let's go for a little walk. Clear our heads."

"Umm, okay." he said, standing up also. "Where we going?"

"For a stroll."

"Okay, but to where?"

"Nowhere in particular, just down the road." she told him.

Reluctantly, Faldan followed Tam outside into the cold, snowy street. Right now the weather was decent, but the heavy clouds overhead meant that could change at any moment.

Faldan looked at her steel-plate armour. "Do you always wear that now?" he asked her, his voice quiet, and uneasy.

She tipped her head, the memory like a heavy weight on her shoulders. "Back in Minestead, I was caught without it. I never wanted that to happen to me again, to be unable to reach my armour when I needed it."

"Did you get your armour back?" he asked. "Is that what you're wearing now?"

"Yes, I got it back later. When I returned to find that everyone was dead." she glared at him. "Almost everyone."

"You didn't notice I wasn't amongst them?" he asked her.

"I didn't check. I got what I could and got out of there as fast as possible. The Thalmor could have returned at any moment, and I didn't want to be there if they did."

"Do you hate me for what I did?" he asked her, his voice wavering.

"I don't know." she revealed to him. "I don't know how I feel." Tam looked up at the sky. "Sometimes I just want to bash your head in. Other times, I just feel sorry for you."

"I was a courier." Faldan said suddenly. "Back in Valenwood."

The Altmer looked over at him. "You delivered letters?"

The Bosmer kicked at some snow. "I was only doing my job." he said. "I was only delivering what I was told to deliver."

Tam's eyebrows raised with curiosity. "What were you delivering?"

"Letters, and some inheritance." he informed her.

"And some of it was dangerous somehow?"

Faldan frowned. "No, it was what I saw when I arrived at the village."

"What did you see?"

"The Thalmor had killed them all. They were destroying the trees, cutting them down, the village down." His head sank. "They told me that the people there no longer needed my services."

"And what did you do?"

"I reported it to the authorities."

"And that was a bad idea?"

"I thought my people still cared for the trees, I thought that the flora of Valenwood was still sacred to us. But they didn't care."

"Was that when you were driven out?"

Faldan shook his head. "No, they told me to keep quiet. If I didn't, then I'd find myself in a lot of trouble."

"But you didn't keep quiet?"

"No, I told some folks in Greenheart, and word spread. People were furious, and there was a riot. Some of those filthy Thalmor got what was coming to them. They responded by executing a lot of Bosmer." Faldan shuddered. "They called it re-asserting their authority, that they had clearly become too lenient over the years. I was nearly on the block too, but I evaded them."

"And that's when you found yourself on the run?"

"The ones that are in charge. They may be Bosmer on the outside, but they treat the wilderness like the Altmer. No longer do they care about our way of life, they don't care about any of it. The Thalmor rule Valenwood now, under the banner of the Aldmeri Dominion."

"Greenheart to the Cyrodiil border, is a long way to be on the run."

"I knew the land. I knew where to go. Besides this was a few months before the war started. I think they were preoccupied with that."

"And they caught you up somehow?"

"Yes"

"After the war?"

"Yes, when they were starting to get a foothold in Cyrodiil after the signing of the peace treaty."

"It wasn't a peace treaty." she informed him. "It was the terms of our mutual stand-off. The Thalmor got the better deal." she said bitterly.

Faldan was silent.

Tam decided to get the conversation back on track. "So, they told you that if you found me, that you'd be allowed back home?"

"Yes."

"How did that happen?"

"I don't know. They found me in Anvil, and said all I had to do was find you, and I'd be able to go home again."

"You believed them?" Tam asked him incredulously.

"I know." he said solemnly. "I just wanted to go home so bad."

"What of the Khajiit you're with?"

"What about her?"

"Do you trust her?"

Faldan shrugged. "I guess I do."

"All the more reason for me not too then." The Altmer looked over at the inn. "You can go back to your friend if you want, I think we're done for now."

Faldan nodded, before rushing over to the Frozen Hearth, almost breaking out into a run.

A small smile spread across Tam's lips at the sight. She had gotten something out of him, but wasn't even sure if it was what she had wanted. What that talk had done, was made his actions more relatable, even if not justifiable. While she would never be able to forgive him, at least she was able to have a one-on-one conversation with him without injuring him. That was a start at least.

* * *

When the four of them finally reached the old farm, the first thing Brendarr did was rush to check on the guar.

Magoza and Hides assisted Llandri in filling up several small crates, with a few pieces of select clothing and as much packaged salted, and other preserved foodstuffs as they could.

While it had been decided they would be spending the night, and perhaps the next few days in the city. They would be continuing Northwards, with the eventual destination of the city of Blacklight. A city that lay on the northern shore on the border to Skyrim.

After feeding the guar, Brendarr brought it to the canopied wagon, where it was harnessed and reined.

As Brendarr climbed into the driver's seat, Magoza made her way over to him, uneasily with Darovin's ebony crossbow in hand. The Dunmer looked down as the Orc held it out to him.

"This probably belongs to you now." she told him.

He reached down and took it. "Thank you." he said, as his eyes welled up with grief.

"It's yours not mine." she said, passing him the quiver of crossbow bolts.

He took them, his lower lip trembling slightly. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you before." he said. "And I'm sorry for blaming you."

"Blaming me? For what?"

"I thought that it was you who got us captured."

Magoza almost couldn't believe what she had just heard. He had thought that she was responsible for it? That she was the one behind their near enslavement? for his father's death?

"I was wrong." Brendarr said to her. "And I'm sorry."

Llandri shouted, her voice full of emotion, as she placed the final crate onto the back. "Let's get out of here!"

As they climbed aboard, Brendarr shook his head at Hides. "You can walk."

His mother ignored him, and told Magoza to help the Argonian into the back, while she sat up front, to the right of her son.

With one final long glance at the farm, they set off towards Almalexia, with Brendarr at the reins. Llandri wept softly, as the farm vanished behind them, into the settling evening fog, for the last time.


	18. DaggerintheWindCh17

**CHAPTER XVII**

It was a cold day in Almalexia. Not as cold as it got to the west in Skyrim, but still it was quite chilly.

At the suggestion of Magoza, both Llandri and Brendarr had booked rooms at the Kwama-Warrior Inn. She and Hides, on the other hand, took care of the wagon, that lay in the small under-staffed guar and silt-strider stable, near the outskirts of the city. They both took it in turns to watch, and to sleep in the back of the wagon.

Now morning was here, and Magoza was heading into Almalexia, to see how the two Dunmer were doing. On her way, she passed by the same destitution that she had seen previously, and the Orsimer still hadn't become accustomed to seeing it. Fortunately, before long she had left it behind, as she set foot inside the small inn. Magoza took a long look around the room to see if she could find the two she was looking for. Most of the faces she didn't recognize. Some looked up from their drinks and glowered at her.

Finally, she saw them. Llandri and Brendarr were sitting across in a secluded corner. She promptly made her way over, making sure she didn't get too close to any of the other tables as she went. Llandri looked up, her eyes swollen with anguish. The Orsimer sat opposite the two of them, unsure how she could possibly console them.

"How are you doing?" Magoza asked, keeping her voice low.

Neither of them answered. Llandri simply lay her head in her hands, while Brendarr picked at the table.

"Do either of you want a drink, or anything to eat?"

Again, neither of them responded. Magoza could easily understand how they felt, after-all she had lost everyone she had cared for, and it hadn't even been that long ago. She wondered how she had coped, before quickly realising that she hadn't really had the chance to mourn. From the moment she had been violently cast out from the stronghold, she had been almost constantly on the run, with little time for thought.

"I don't know if this helps any." Magoza began. "But I lost everyone I knew, where I grew up. They were all butchered."

Magoza looked for any sign that they were listening. There was no indication that they were even aware of her presence. She could understand them not wanting to talk.

Magoza pushed herself up from her seat. "I better not leave Hides alone with the wagon too long." she told them. "Him being an Argonian and all of that. The folks around here might try something." She turned to leave.

"Please don't go." Brendarr called after her.

Magoza turned back around to face them. "I really shouldn't leave Hides alone too long, the stable-master doesn't like him." While she wanted to stay and comfort them, seeing the two of them as they were, was almost intolerable.

"Just stay for a little bit." Brendarr asked.

"Okay." the Orc relented, as she sat back down.

Llandri looked over at Magoza. "There's a small lumber village up north." she said, her voice hoarse. "Some of the old guys that worked for the farm, when it was still prosperous. They were brothers. Well, after the farm failed, they went up there and set it up."

"They sent us a letter or two." Brendarr added.

"Yes, they did well for themselves."

"Are we heading up there?" the young Dunmer asked his mother.

The Dunmer widow half shrugged. "A rest stop, if they allow it."

"You and Brendarr maybe, but me and Hides is less likely."

"If they know you're friends of ours, then they'll let you stay."

Brendarr shook his head. "That lizard is not a friend of ours."

"Same way I wasn't?" Magoza asked him.

"Not the same way." Brendarr said. "That thing out there isn't like us. They're monsters."

"Hides isn't a monster."

"Isn't he?" Brendarr questioned.

Magoza decided not to get into an argument with him. He had only just lost his father, and it was by Argonian hands. While blaming an entire race over the actions of a few seemed backwards to her, she also had to put into consideration the fact that there had been centuries, if not millennia of animosity between the two cultures.

"I must go see how Hides is doing." Magoza told them, pushing herself back up from the seat.

"We'll come with you." Llandri told her. "I want to get out of this place anyway."

* * *

He had to stay there, to guard the wagon. But Hides hated it here. The Red, accusing eyes that stared at him, conversations that stopped when they caught him looking at them. The stable-master was the worst, always making sure he spoke loudly with his insults. He also tried to hide them, by making it sound like he was talking about the guars he was charged with caring for, but Hides knew he was talking about him.

Almalexia was a place full of bigotry and distrust, and he wondered why he had come here in the first place, back before he had even met the young Orc in that alleyway. He had told himself that he wanted redemption, and that he couldn't find that within the borders of Argonia. Up here though, he wasn't trusted, and he couldn't fault it, not really.

Almalexia housed the temple city of Mournhold, which had also once been the capital of Morrowind. The Argonians had destroyed all that, in response to the oppression and slavery the Dunmer had inflicted on their people. They had done it, even though slavery in the Dunmer province had been outlawed by that point. The problem was that it had been outlawed far too late, only a few seasons before the eruption of Red Mountain, which devastated most of northern Morrowind, and rendering the Island of Vvardenfell essentially uninhabitable. His people saw weakness, and they took the opportunity.

"Looks like those peasant farmers are coming back with their Orc prize." Hides heard a stable-worker say.

"I hope they take the thing with them when they go."

"The Orc?"

"No, the other thing."

"Oh, I got ya."

Hides didn't bother looking to see Magoza approaching with the two Dunmer. There was no real point. He knew that the kid would berate him as soon as he saw him, so he decided not to encourage it.

Brendarr was the first to speak to him. "Haven't stolen anything have you?"

"No." Hides responded, not looking in their direction as the three of them stepped up to the wagon.

"I'm going to check." Brendarr said, as he climbed into the back.

Magoza leant on the Wagon besides the Argonian. "So, how are you doing?"

"I preferred my alley to here."

Llandri stood beside Magoza. "Sorry about Brendarr. He's just like that." Llandri apologized. "You helped save us, so I'm grateful."

One of the workers shouted over to them. "Aren't you off yet!?"

Brendarr stood up from in the back of their canopied wagon, and stared over at them. "What!?" he asked, having not heard what they had said.

"We can harness your guar up for free if you want." The worker told them.

Llandri looked around the wagon and addressed them. "We're not going just yet."

The stable-master walked over to them, forcing his way in on the conversation. "Oh, yes you are!" he bellowed. "Your freak is scaring customers away. Not to mention the merchants, who bring their pack-guars here to rest!"

Brendarr smirked. "We can get rid of the freak if you want?"

"No!" Llandri shouted at her son, before addressing all the stable-hands as a whole. "We'll go, if you want us gone!"

"I give you an hour to be off my land!" the stable-master said. "I'm being generous, so get whatever you came for, and get out of my yard!"

Llandri looked around at them all. "Why wait?" she asked.

Brendarr shrugged. "Want to get out of here now? Sure."

Magoza and Hides both nodded in unison.

"Let's get out of here then."

Ten minutes later, the wagon was rolling away from the city, on the long road heading northward.

* * *

He was recovering quite fast. Right now, Rontag was outside in a thick coat, practising slow swings with his steel battle-axe. Valerie, who was in a tunic and brown pants, and Tam, who wore her usual armour, watched from the porch.

"Look at this!" Rontag shouted. "I tell you, Iron-Axe is in my name, and in my blood!"

Valerie couldn't help but smile. She had always mused about the family name, Iron-Axe. Iron tended to be more unforgiving, and brittle when used in heavy combat. In a way, it took more skill then the more expensive stronger metals, because it blunted and cracked easily if the wielder didn't know what they were doing. That's why steel was invented. The strength of Iron, but with far more durability.

Thinking of his name, lead her to remember back before she had even met Rontag. There had been an old warrior who'd had the name Mighty-Beard. It had been true as-well. She hadn't seen such a massive, fully braided beard, since she had seen a painting depicting the ancient, and now extinct Dwarves. Mighty-Beard had even stated that he had Dwarven blood in him, but she doubted it. She wondered if he was still alive, but doubted that as-well. He had been old when she had last seen him, and that had been over twenty-five years ago.

Her family, at least on her father's side, had never had a last name. She was simply Valerie, Daughter of Corinthia. She would have had a brother who would have been known as the Son of Jolgrün, which was her father's name. But both her mother and brother had died in childbirth, when she herself, had only been but a little bairn, barely six years old.

"Full blooded Nords like us, you'll never keep us down!" Rontag shouted to his wife.

She smiled. "My great grandmother on my mother's side was Cyrodilic remember?"

"Of course." he said, returning her smile. "Close enough."

"I suppose." she half agreed.

"Speaking of those from Cyrodiil." Rontag said, as he looked down the road.

Valerie heard Tam gasp as she peered down the his way slowly up the street, was a dark haired, tanned Imperial man, dressed in Blades armour.

Valerie turned around to see Tam staring, her mouth agape.

* * *

Tam stared in disbelief. Before her was Albus Marcellinus. A former Blade, who the last time she had seen him, had been at the ruins of Cloud Ruler Temple, and again on the road to the Pale Pass. He had been working for the Thalmor, while they held his family hostage. Their ransom was her, but she had known even then, that his family were already as good as dead, if they hadn't already been killed.

Him showing up now could only mean one of three things. His family were dead, and he was looking for revenge on her, or his family were dead, and the Thalmor still had him under their control, and he wanted her life in revenge; or finally, he wanted her to help him take revenge on the Thalmor. The last one was more wishful thinking than anything else.

"Everything okay?" she heard Valerie ask.

Tam looked down at her. "You and Rontag should go to the Frozen Hearth."

"What?" Valerie asked.

"Please."

"Okay." the Nord agreed, as she left the porch. "Come on Rontag, Tam needs some time alone with her friend."

Both of them left, as Albus came to a halt at the foot of the porch. He stared up at her, wearing his old worn Blades armour, with his long katana in its sheath on his hip. All that was missing was his helmet and shield. But Albus never needed them. His sword skill was too good to need impedances like that.

"Why are you here?" Tam asked him.

"Why is anybody anywhere?" he responded. His voice deep, and oddly calm. "Why does anybody do anything? Why do we try, when all that awaits us is Aetherius or Oblivion?"

"Do you want to come in?" Tam inquired. "Have something to eat or drink?"

"I didn't come here to have tea and sweet-rolls with you." he told her matter-of-factly.

"Then why?"

"Because you would rather save your own worthless hide, than my precious family!" he spat, his voice straining.

"They were already dead Albus." she told him sympathetically. "And so are you, once you were no longer of use to them."

"There was a chance!"

"No, there wasn't, there never was."

"I cannot risk you escaping." he said to her, as he reached onto a small satchel that lay around his waist.

"What do you intend to do?" she asked, apprehensive of what it was he intended to do.

He pulled out a scroll and rolled it open. Tam tensed up as he began to read the words etched upon it. It was clearly a magic scroll. What kind of magic scroll, she had no idea. Apart from rushing him like an idiot, she had no way of stopping him. Her warhammer was inside the house, in her room, well out of her reach. If she tried to knock the scroll from him, she'd probably lose her head.

Albus' words stopped, as the scroll turned to ash. The next thing she knew, a ten foot tall frost atronach was smashing through the front of the porch to get to her.

* * *

The two Nords had barely set foot through the door of the inn, when they heard a loud crash, and the sound of splintering wood. In an instant, they were back outside staring at a giant ice monster as it tore through the front of their house.

"By the Gods!" Rontag exclaimed.

Valerie reached for the hilt of her sword, only to remember that she wasn't in her armour, nor did she have her weapon on her. It was all in the house, in its sheath on the sideboard. She looked over at Rontag as he wielded his battle-axe.

"I don't think so." she warned him. "You still haven't recovered, and you don't even have your armour on you."

He glared at her. "We can't allow some ice-thing, to destroy our home!?"

A voice spoke from behind them. "To destroy the conjure, kill the conjurer."

They both looked around to see Rasha standing behind them.

"How do we do that?" Valerie questioned. "We aren't armed."

Rontag raised his axe.

"No!"

"We cannot speak on this, we need to _do _something!" he argued.

Rasha looked passed them, at the man stood at the foot of the Iron-Axe's house as the atronach pulverised its way through the front of it.

Valerie reached over and grabbed onto her husband's shoulder. "We need to stop him, but in a way that doesn't involve you throwing your life away."

"I won't be throwing my life away. Just a quick swipe at his neck, and it's all over."

Rasha moved in front of the two of them. "That is Blades armour he's wearing. If he is one, then I doubt you'll be able to get close enough to behead him."

"You have a plan?" Valerie asked.

"Or are you just here to tell us what we can't do?" Rontag questioned.

"You distract him, while I try and get around him. Take him from behind."

Valerie wasn't convinced of the impromptu plan. "Will that even work?" she asked. "I doubt he'll let anyone sneak up on him."

Rontag looked over at the man. He stared right back at them, while the ice creature continued to tear through their home.

"He won't know." Rasha said.

"He's looking right at us." Rontag told the other two. "He knows we're making a plan, and if he sees us two without you, then he'll know what you're up to."

"We'll have to take the chance, his atronach is ripping your house to shreds!"

"If we don't do something, it'll be tearing Tam to shreds!" Rontag shouted, as he began to storm forwards, axe at the ready.

"Ron!" Valerie shouted, moving after him.

Rasha watched them head slowly towards the man, as he continued to look over at them. She would need a distraction if she were to slip away, and get behind him.

She got her wish. There was a loud crashing sound, as the main structure of the house gave way, causing it to collapse in on itself, the atronach, and whoever else was inside. Both the man, and the two Iron-Axe's looked at it for only a brief moment.

But that is all she needed.

The Ohmes-Raht glided forward, quickly and silently. She headed around the rear of the general store, that lay on the other side of the street. As she peeked round the north wall, after moving swiftly along the back of the store, she saw the stranger swing his katana, slicing the handle of Rontag's battle-axe in two, causing him to drop it.

Rasha knew if she didn't move now, the foolish Nord was going to get killed. Without further thought, she ran, without sound, her glass dagger in hand.

As she got in range, the man swung around. With one fluid motion, her dagger was down on the snowy street, her hand still attached to it.

The Ohmes-Raht-Khajiit could barely believe it. She had just lost her hand, and at any moment she was sure to lose her life.

* * *

Tam had managed to get a-hold of her warhammer, as the summoned creature from Oblivion tore through the house. She had succeeded in getting a good half-dozen blows in, before it raised up its torso sized arm, and smashed it clean through their roof. Then, it brought the icy appendage down with such force, that the foundations shook, and the house collapsed around them, knocking her to the floor. Wooden supports fell on top of her, burying her under a heap of cold lumber.

She heard the tell-tale fizzle of a summoned creature being knocked back into Oblivion, which meant half the job was finished. All that was left now was to deal with Albus. Only that would be difficult, as she found herself stuck, trapped under what remained of the house.

Without waiting another moment, she reached around her, barely able to move under the mass on top of her. Tam managed to take hold of her warhammer handle, manoeuvring it carefully so that she could begin to pry the wood away, and hopefully free herself.

Slowly, the wood began to shift, allowing her to move just enough to force the rest off of her. She slowly clambered to her feet, only to see the Khajiit, Rasha lose her hand to Albus' blade, before he elbowed Valerie in the face, who had tried to jump him from behind. The Nord staggered into Rontag, and they both toppled into the snow.

Without a second thought, Tam swung her warhammer around, pivoting herself around in a circle on one foot. She let it go, flinging the hammer at her target with tremendous force. It struck Albus in the back with a sickening crack, his armour splintering from the sheer amount of power from the impact, sending most of it into Albus' torso. The katana fell from his hand as he collapsed into the snow, blood oozing out of the pulverized wound in his back.

Tam looked over at Rasha, who was trying to stem the flow of blood from her own wound. The Altmer began to climb over the debris of the house, as Valerie tore some fabric from her own clothing.

Tam rushed over, as Valerie wrapped the wound tightly with the fabric. It turned red with blood in mere seconds .

Rontag knelt down and checked Albus. "He's dead." he confirmed.

Tam didn't acknowledge. Instead, she began to make her way over to the general store. "I'll check to see if they have a healing potion or something." she told them, before adding. "Rasha, hold your arm in the air, pointing at the sky. It'll reduce the blood loss."

The Khajiit obeyed, raising her crudely bandaged arm up in the air.

Tam burst into the store, and a rather angry looking Nord man glared at her. "Was it you making all that racket?" he asked.

"Healing potion, do you have one?" she asked urgently.

The man knelt down and picked up a bottle from behind the counter. "Yeah, might be a bit old though."

"Doesn't matter."

"Okay, that'll be sixty gold."

Tam cursed herself. She hadn't brought any gold. "It's an emergency." She said, trying to plead, to see if he would just let her have it.

"Nope." he said to her. "Sixty gold."

With no time to waste, she removed her steel-plate gauntlets. "I'll swap these for it."

The store keeper's eyes went wide, as a smile spread across his face. "Of course I'll swap an old dusty potion for some of those expensive looking gauntlets."

She passed them to him, taking the potion in hand, before running out of the store toward the wounded Khajiit. She passed the bottle to the Khajiit, who took it with her only hand.

Rasha gritted her teeth as pain shot through her wounded arm. "Could you please uncork this?" she asked. "It's a little difficult with one hand."

Tam took it back and uncorked it before passing it back. Rasha took a small sip. "Thank you." she said with gratitude.

Valerie stepped in front of the Altmer, anger clear on her face. "Mind telling me who that was, and why he destroyed our house, maimed Rasha, and sliced Rontag's steel battle-axe in two?"

Tam bit her lip. She knew she'd have some explaining to do. "Later, when we have Rasha's wound under control."

"Fine." Valerie agreed. "Later."

The Nord walked over to Rasha and lead her to the inn, after the Ohmes-Raht had retrieved her hand and dagger from the floor. Rontag meanwhile, had picked up the two halves that had once been his battle-axe.

"I think I need a new shaft." he said aloud.

Tam looked down at Albus. The sight of his dead body laying there in the red snow, filled her with grief. She walked over to her former comrades body, and scooped it up in her arms.

"He needs a proper burial." she told Rontag. "I owe him that much."

It was her fault that he was dead. It was her fault that his family were dead. She couldn't help but wonder how much of what had happened in the lead up to the war, had also been her fault. Perhaps it was all her fault.

* * *

Tam gently lowered Albus' body into the six foot hole she had dug, while the others stood around and observed. She climbed out, before looking down at the body. Tam then turned her gaze to the sky.

"His was a troubled soul." she said. "Taken over by the grief of the loss of his family. Please take care of him, and make sure he is reunited with those he lost."

The Altmer had once thought that she had no more tears to shed, but now she found that she had plenty.

Burying Albus had reminded her of how much she had lost. The people around her, she had known for such a little amount of time. She had once trusted Albus, far more than she thought she could ever trust Valerie or Rontag.

She had brought him into the Blades as a recruit, and it was her fault that he was now dead. She had seen such potential in him, but that had all ended with the war. With the Emperor disbanding the Blades, and essentially disowning all of its members. The Thalmor had almost complete free reign to round them up, and execute them.

The Blades had literally given everything for the Empire, and in return, Titus Mede II had refused to offer protection for the former members of the organization. He essentially spat in the face of every one of them.

Titus Mede I, had reformed the Empire a-hundred-and-fifty years ago. He had built it up from the decay it had fallen into. Now his descendant, who shared the name had all but destroyed it.

"May Emperor Titus Mede's soul be taken by Oblivion!" Tam spat aloud.

The others stared at her in shock of what she had just said. Tam ignored them, as she began to shovel the excavated dirt, back into the hole. Covering Albus' lifeless body.

"You wanted to know who he was!?" she shouted over at Valerie. "Albus Marcellinus was my student. I was responsible for his initiation into the Blades. I was the one who picked him out of a group of hopefuls. It was me, that is responsible for all that happened to him!"

"It's not your fault." Valerie offered.

"Yes it is!" Tam yelled. "They got to his family, and it's _my _fault."

"How can it be?"

Tam continued to shovel the dirt back into the hole. "Because if it wasn't for me, then-"

"He probably would have joined the Legion and died in the war." Valerie finished.

"Maybe."

"The Thalmor got to him." Valerie said slowly. "They get to a lot of people. You need to understand that it is they who put him in the ground, not you."

"I seem to remember that it was me that threw the hammer that killed him."

"He was already dead." Rontag told her. "He was dead inside. As you said, his family were gone, and there was nothing left for him. The Thalmor focused that grief onto you, turning it into hatred."

Tam stopped shovelling and glared at him. "I suppose you're an expert on the Thalmor now!? Well versed in their tactics!?"

"I was just trying to, well-" he trailed off.

Tam started to fill the grave up once more. "Help?" she asked with a sigh. "I suppose you're right."

"He is." Valerie added.

The Altmer's face creased in disgust. "It sounds just like them. Manipulating, twisting a person's feelings against themselves. They are a blight on this world!"

"But it's a blight we cannot do anything about." Rasha added.

Tam finished filling the grave, and threw the shovel to the ground. "I hate this place, and cannot wait to get out of here." She looked over at Faldan who had remained quiet through the whole thing. "The Thalmor never rest." she told him. "Expect to be on the run for your entire life."

Valerie looked at the Altmer, sadness in her eyes. "I'll miss you y'know."

"Yeah." Tam agreed.

"Do you think it's a good idea for you all to be together? The Thalmor might find you easier that way."

"Who knows." Tam said. "All I know is that I doubt the Thalmor's preachings of Elven purity would go down well in Morrowind. The Dunmer being the result of an angry Daedra and all that."

"I suppose."

Rasha began rubbing the end of her bandaged stump. "I have a cramp in my hand." she said.

Rontag looked over at her bemused. "How can you have a cramp, when you don't have a hand?"

Tam turned to Rasha. She also felt guilty to what had happened to her. It was her fault that Rasha was here in the first place.

The Altmer looked around at all the people surrounding her, as snow began to flutter slowly from the sky. They all had wounds, either mental or physical, that would never truly heal. It was as though there was a dagger in the wind, waiting for them to lower their guard so it could strike them down.

Tam had lowered her guard here, and it had resulted in the loss of Rasha's hand, and the destruction of her's and the two Nord's home. Then again, she had lowered her guard back in the old mining village. If she hadn't then when the enraged Orc Burag had come to Whiterun looking for Magoza, then there was a real chance that Valerie could be dead now instead.

But was Valerie's life worth everyone's that had died?

Tam took in a deep breath. "The Thalmor no doubt will be on their way. We need to be out of here before whatever they send next arrives."

"I say we head to Dawnstar." Valerie suggested. "See if we can catch passage to Solitude on a ship."

Rontag agreed. "They used to send the fishing ship up there, near the end of every month." he told them. "To sell on the ore they've dug up to the Legion."

Tam nodded in agreement. "Okay, we'll head up there with you, but we cannot go to Solitude with you. The Thalmor are sure to be there."

"That's true." Valerie looked down the road. "When do we set off?"

Tam looked at Rontag. "If he's up to it, tomorrow."

They all agreed. Tomorrow they would leave this place, and another journey for them all, would begin anew.

* * *

The camp-fire lit up their surroundings, as the four of them camped. The guar was safely tied to the side of the wagon, and its brake on to stop the animal from fleeing in the night.

Brendarr had spent most of the half hour since they had made camp, glaring at Hides, not even attempting to hide the disdain he clearly felt. The Lizards had taken away everything. Life on the farm may not have been easy, or even particularly rewarding, but it was all he had known. Now all he knew was that it was all over.

"I'm tired." Llandri told them, as she moved over to one of four leather and hide bedrolls, that were all laid out around the fire. She laid down on it, her back to the group.

Brendarr stood up, and stretched.

"Going to bed too?" Magoza asked him.

He shook his head. "No, I'm going to see how Naren is doing." he told her, as he made his way over to the guar.

Magoza looked over at Hides. "So, you with us now, or what?" she questioned.

"You mean am I now travelling with you?" he asked in clarification.

"Yes."

"I suppose I am."

"For how long?"

The Argonian responded by making a strange noise in his throat.

"Does that mean you don't know?"

"Correct."

Magoza looked over at Brendarr, as he stroked the guar's large bulbous snout. The large creature always looked happy, in a dopey sort of way. But even Naren looked sad in the firelight, as if it knew what had happened to its owners, that Darovin was dead. In reality, it was more likely that it simply preferred to be in its little barn, shielded against the elements, instead of being out here where the weather was cold and harsh.

Both Magoza and Hides' attention was drawn to the form of Llandri as she lay on the bed-roll. They could hear a quiet, stifled sobbing coming from her. Even with her back to her, the could see that her hands were up against her face, her body curled up in the foetal position.

The Orsimer looked over to Brendarr, to see if he had noticed. He was no longer stroking the guar, instead he had his head rested on its snout, gently patting it.

Magoza stared into the fire, wishing that all the hurt and pain they felt would go away. She just wanted to be back at the farm, helping Darovin with door hinges.

But that would never happen again. As with everything else in her life, it had all fallen away with brutality and death.


End file.
